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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
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The Library of Congress 



http://www.archive.org/details/glimpsesaroundwoOOstei 



GLIMPSES 
AROUND THE WORLD 

THROUGH THE EYES 

OF 

A YOUNG AMERICAN 

By 
GRACE MAXINE STEIN 

With Many Original Illustrations 



/ am merely a reporter 
of impressions. 




PHILADELPHIA : 

THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY 
1909 






Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1909, by 

Grace Maxine Stein, in the office of the Librarian 

of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 



©GI.A261201 



TO 

MY DEAR PARENTS 

Through Whose Kindness and Indulgence I have been 

Permitted to Experience the following 

Golden Days 

THIS VOLUME IS LOVINGLY 
DEDICATED 



CONTENTS 



CHAPTER PAGE 

Foreword xiii 

I. The Titan of Chasms i 

Graiid Canon of the Colorado 

II. The Paradise of the Pacific 1 1 

Hawaii 

III. The Flowery Kingdom 17 

Japan 

IV. The Most Recently Acquired Jewel in Uncle Sam's 

Possession 57 

Philippine Islands 

V. The Core of Conservatism 65 

China 

VI. The Golden Peninsula 79 

Straits Settlement' 

VII. The Pearl Drop in India's Brow 99 

Ceylon 

VIII. The Land of Wonders 123 

India 

IX. The Cradle of Civilization 192 

Egypt 

X. The Land of Kings and Prophets 237 

Palestine 

XL The Garden of Europe 272 

Italy 

(v) 



vi Contents 



CHAPTER PAGE 

XII. The European Playground 343 

Switzerland 

XIII. The Empire of Four K's 349 

Germany 

XIV. HOGEN-MOGEN 374 

Holland 

XV. Minerva's Northern Headquarters 386 

Belgium. 

XVI. The Abode of Dame Fashion and her (K)Nights of 

Gaiety . 392 

France 

XVII. The Land of the Rose 411 

England ■ . 

XVIII. Where Shamrocks Grow 436 

Ireland 

XIX. Highland of the Celts 448 

Scotland 

XX. Land of the Free and Home of the Brave 459 

United States of America 

Epilogue 471 

Glossary 473 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



"Ohayo. " (In colors) Frontispiece^ 

page" 

Swastika ' 2. 

The Home of the Navajos full page 3 

Where Titan Spreads His Rays 6; 

Our First Glimpse of Honolulu 12; 

Fujiyama 18; 

Our First Jinrikisha Ride 20. 

Which is Married ? 23; 

Torii . 24 

Paibutsu 2(5f 

enoshimaites 28; 

Koshin 34: 

A Shinto Prjest 37 

A Temple in Nikko 38 

Japanese Characters 45 

Coming Generation of Mothers. 4$ 

Geisha Girls 52 

Steamship America Maru in Manila Harbor 58 

Carabao Hauling Bales of Hemp 60, 

Street Scene in Manila 62 

Grand Stand in the Luneta 64 

Victoria Peak 67 

Life on a Sampan 69 

Chinese Houseboats 7« 

Chinese Barber 73 

Halting Near the Five-Storied Pagoda, Canton-. 74 

Chinese Woman and Child 7£ 

Steamship Namur in the Harbor of Singapore 79, 

Malayan Cart and Oxen 8* 

(vii) 



viii Illustrations 

PAGE 

Sikh Policeman in Singapore 83 

Traveler's Tree 85 

India Rubber Tree 86 

Malayan Coolies 88 

'RlKSHAW? 'RlKSHAW? 89 

Street Scene in Singapore 90 

A Native Fruit Stall, Singapore 91 

Sampans 92 

"Ta-ra-ra-ra-boom de ay" 93 

Malay Street Scene 94 

Neighborly Interest 95 

S'hinghalese Man 102 

A Tamil Girl 103 

Bullock Cart 104 

Raining Nigger-Babies 107 

Mango Tree Trick 108 

Snake Charmer : 109 

Moslem Religious Service in the Open in 

Kandyan Chiefs 113 

Arrival of the Duke and Duchess of Connaught 114 

Devotees Entering the Temple of Buddha's Tooth 118 

Kandyan Priests 119 

Sacred Elephants Belonging to the Kandy Temple 120 

Elephants of Ceylon 121 

Calcutta's Bathing Ghat at Sunrise 125 

K Hindu Deity 126 

Women's Bathing Ghat 127 

Burning Ghat 128 

Jain Temple,- Calcutta 131 

A Group of Brahmans 134 

On. the Ghat of the Sacred Ganges 139 

Money Temple . 140 

CTolden Temple 142 

Market Scene 143 

Indian Girl Cleansing Her Teeth 144 



Illustrations ix 



PAGE 



Mutiny Memorial Well . 146 

Dhobies j 4 8 

Outer Gateway to the Tomb of Emperor Akbar 149 

Tomb of Emperor Akbar 150 

Tomb of Itimad-ud-Daulah. 156 

Outer Gate of Taj Mahal 158 

Taj Mahal 1^9 

Interior, Marble Screen of Taj Mahal 160 

. Indian Merchant's Shop 1 63 

"If Heaven can be on the Face of the Earth, It is This, 

Oh! It is This, Oh! It is This" full page 167 

Marble Screen, Representing Scale of Justice in Delhi's 

Fort 169 

Jumna Musjid, Delhi 1 yo 

Depository of the Sacred Hair of Mohammed's Beard 171 

Kutab Minar 173 

Street Scene in Jaipur 175 

A Railroad Station En Route to Bombay . 176 

Parsees' Tower of Silence 180 

Bombay Merchant 182 

Indian Women Grinding Corn 184 

On Board Steamship Egypt En Route to African Shores 186 

Passing Through the Suez Canal 189 

Harbor of Port Said iyo 

Caironese Mussulmans 194 

Mosque of Mohammed Ali .% 199 

Lemonade Seller 204 

Street in Cairo 205 

Tomb-Mosque of Kait Bey 206 

Shekh El-Beled 208 

Prince Ra-Hotep and Princess Nefert 209 

Our Bedouin Attendants 213 

Ascending the Great Pyramid of Khufu 214 

Pyramids and Sphinx of Gizeh 218 

Noonday Rest in the Desert 220 



x Illustrations 



PAGE 

The Site of Ancient Memphis 223 

The Charm of the Yashmak 224 

Mummy Exhumed at Siut, Supposed to have been Buried 

ABOUT 2 200 B. C 227 

Entrance to Temple of Rameses, Karnak 228 

A Temple on the Bank of the Nile 232 

Colossi of Memnon 233 

Our First Glimpses of the Holy Land 238 

Mosque of Omar 245 

Leaving the Site of Solomon's Temple 246 

The Well of the Magi 248 

Entrance to the Tomb of the Virgin Mary 256 

Main Entrance to the Best Hotel in Hebron 259 

Ancient Pool of David 260 

Our Bedouin Escort 261 

Shepherd and His Flock 262 

Open Bedouin Camp . 263 

The Dead Sea 265 

Our First Glimpse of the River Jordan 267 

One of the "Wriggles" of the Jordan River 268 

The Place of Wailing of the Jews 270 

Mount Vesuvius from a Neapolitan Height 273 

Entrance to the Villa Municipale 274 

Rape of the Sabine 276 

Solfatara 277 

Santa Lucia 282 

Artists' Models on Scala di Spagna 286 

Incendio del Borgo full page 289 

Disputa del Sacramento full page 293 

Scuola di Atene full page 297 

Monte Parnaso full page 299 

Gabinetto di Canova .full page 303 

The Dying Gaul 307 

The Capuccini Catacombs 309 

Pisa's Leaning Tower 311 



Illustrations » 



PAGE 



The Cloisters of Santa Croce 319 

Casa Guidi 323 

Venice's Principal Artery 327 

The Venetians' Open-Air Drawing Room 330 

PONTE Dl RlALTO -^^t, 

MlLANO'S DUOMO 338 

The Lion of Lucerne 347 

Albrecht Durer's House 334 

ElSERNE JUNGFRAU 333 

Vestner Thurm 356 

NtJREMBERGER TrICHTER 3^8 

Heidelberg's Schloss 359 

The Present Imperial Hohenzollern Family 366 

Johannes Brahms' Birthplace 373 

Experiencing a Round to the Unknown Regions.. 308 

Paradise or Inferno 400 

The Longest Book Shop in the World 403 

Napoleon's Tomb 404 

Restaurant de l'Arbre du Vrai Robinson 408 

Shakespeare's Monument in Westminster Abbey 422 

Queen Mary's Bedroom, Holyrood Palace 452 

The Guardian Angel of the Sweet Land of Liberty 460 

Uncle Sam's Headquarters 465 

The Indian's Interpretation of Niagara Falls 468 



FOREWORD 



A TRIP-ALONG 

TO THE STAY-AT-HOMES 

If you are one of the many who would like to travel, but 
are restrained by ill health or financial equipment, seat your- 
self, saturated with imagination, in an easy chair which rests 
upon Prince Housain's Magic Carpet, and the author will 
loan you her eyes for a trip around the world. 



"Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with 
us or we will find it not." 

Emerson. 



(xiii) 



Hints to the Tourist from a Handy Companion 



"Travel is one of the surest means of enlarging personal experience and 
acquiring a broad view of men and things. " 

Concentration is the word of the twentieth century. 
Let us be mindful of this fact when preparing for our 
tour. We shall be practical, taking as little baggage 
with us as possible; a good traveling suit, a warm 
costume for the steamer, a steamer rug, a few light- 
weight clothes for the tropics, and underwear for all 
seasons. We shall most likely be able to replenish 
necessities en route, and we are told excess baggage 
is both troublesome and expensive in overland trans- 
portation. We suggest that the best medicines to 
employ in our travel are temperance, exercise, a 
mind well occupied, and a temper always serene. No 
one can know and see all of the interesting and beauti- 
ful scenes of the world except in the space of many 
years, and we must content ourselves in this belief. 
Chicago is our starting point. 

"I'll put a girdle round about the earth in forty minutes." 



(xv) 



CHAPTER I 

The Titan of Chasms 

" ALL ABOARD," shouts the conductor at Polk 

r\ Street Station, as we step into sleeping car No. 

3, of the "Sante Fe California Limited," on 

Monday evening. With wishes of "God speed," and 

lingering good-by glances, we find our train gliding 

gently out of Chicago. 

"The Round the World" tickets which we have 
purchased before leaving include transportation to 
San Francisco via any route. 

It is October. We chose the Santa Fe route, which 
allows a stop-over at the Grand Canon in Arizona. 
Much exhausted from our last day of packing and 
good-by s, we order the genial, colored porter to pre- 
pare our berths for the night. The rumbling noise of 
the train gradually becomes more faint, and we are 
lost in sweet slumber. A sudden jerk, confusion of 
voices, and we hear the call, "Kansas City," as we open 
our eyes, about eight o'clock the following morning. 
A nicely-served breakfast in the dining-car prepares us 
for a day of travel in this luxuriously equipped "Pull- 
man." 

The panorama of rolling prairie lands proves restful, 
and at about sunset when we reach Dodge City, Kan- 
sas, we set our watches back one hour according to 
"mountain time." During the following darkened 
hours Nature surprises us, for on Wednesday morning 
we find ourselves surrounded by the glorious snow- 
capped Rocky Mountains. 

d) 



2 Glimpses Around the World 

From the rear of the observation car we see several 
mining camps, and now and again a Pueblo Indian 
settlement, or rather a group of adobe huts. Shortly 
before noon our train reaches Albuquerque, New 
Mexico, and during a stop of twenty minutes we 
visit the Harvey Indian Museum, adjoining the rail- 
road station, where all sorts of Indian souvenirs are on 
sale. One of the intelligent Indian salesmen points to 
the emblem of good luck in Sanskrit, known as the 
"Swastika" which from time immemorial has been 
the symbolic charm of fortune, as he says, "May the 
winds from the four corners of the earth blow upon 
you gently." This is the cry from. 

^^^ m the East Indians to our own Ameri- 

^^H I can Indians, for while we find the 

M m "Swastika" the chief decoration of 

MmMMH the Navajos, as well as upon the 

i J | pottery left by the Cliff-dwellers, 

| ■ we shall no doubt also find it carved 

M^HI on the Buddhistic idols of the 

Swastika, Orientalists. The Swastika, the old- 

est of all forms of the cross, was a 
religious symbol in India long before the beginning of 
the Christian Era. 

Here the well-known Elle of Ganado and her little 
daughter Yasa are at work weaving Navajo blankets. 
The scenery during the afternoon travel is full of inter- 
est, for the curious mountain formations constantly 
suggest all sorts of images. 

In the evening we are transferred with our hand 
baggage to an attached sleeping coach, which, leaving 
the main line at Williams, Arizona, lands us near the 
greatest chasm in the world, "The Grand Canon" of 
the Colorado River, in Arizona. 

The morning is rainy as we climb the rustic winding 
steps, which lead from the train to the unique, modernly 



The Titan of Chasms 5 

equipped hotel El Tovar, named after Don Pedro de 
Tovar, whose name is linked with the discovery of the 
Grand Canon by Coronado's men in 1540. 

Must we have rain and mist to blot out the glorious 
spectacle we have come to view? It can not be that 
we are doomed to a chilly drizzle. Before noon we 
find the heavy veil of fog gradually rising, and follow- 
ing the boardwalk which leads from the hotel to the 
edge of the precipice, we catch our first glimpse of the 
Titan of Chasms recognized to be one of the greatest 
sights in the world. 

We catch our breath, gaze and sigh from our elevated 
position on the brink. We see an immense, and seem- 
ingly bottomless pit, whose vertical rock walls of 
marvelously mixed colors form magnificent terraces 
and lofty cliffs. "0 wonderful, wonderful, and most 
wonderful, wonderful, and yet again wonderful, and 
after that out of all whooping. ' ' Suddenly the smiling 
sun in all its glory bursts upon the distant peaks and 
valleys, melting the clouds of mist. What do we see? 
Is it a great devastated city smouldering in ruins? a 
crumbling castle, towers, and cathedral spires? No, 
this is just the "Grand Canon," and nothing else. 

We have read beautiful word-paintings and thought 
we knew what we should see, but the realization is so 
far beyond our conception, we just stand awed. Ver- 
milions, purples, grays, and browns, blend in sublimity 
in this labyrinth of huge architectural forms. Here 
is all that architecture, painting, and music have striven 
to express during ages. 

"The spectacle is so symmetrical and so completely 
excludes the outside world and its accustomed stand- 
ards, we cannot acquire a notion of its immensity." 
Mere figures tell us its depth is six thousand feet and 
the length is more than two hundred miles long. We 
are told if it was half as deep and half as long this 



6 Glimpses Around the Woild 

proudest of all our natural possessions would be no 
less bewildering, so utterly does it baffle human grasp. 
World-famed Niagara would not here possess the 
dignity of a trout stream. An earlier fellow traveler 
has said: "It is unlike anything in heaven or earth, 





Where Titan Spreads His Rays. 



and yet within it are the likenesses of many notable 
and famous things. " 

A coach and four offers us comfortable accommo- 
dations for a drive through pine-needle groves to Cen- 
tral Point, one of the innumerable jutting promontories 



The Titan of Chasms 7 

from which we command new and ever-changing pic- 
tures. By looking deep down into the black gorge and 
straining our eyes we can just manage to see a bit of 
the mighty Colorado River, whose constant rushing 
and shooting waters, gnawing for centuries, have worn 
this deep gorge in the earth's surface. The canon is as 
deep as Mount Washington is high. We see the trail 
which leads to the Bright Angel Camp, down, down; 
the tents look like nutshells. If time permitted we 
should make the descent on donkeys, for, though a 
strenuous expedition, we are convinced we should feel 
well repaid for our efforts. Then, perhaps, we would 
be able to understand more of its marvelous beauty. 
While we all stand breathless in admiration one mem- 
ber of our party, an Irish gentleman, heaves a sigh 
and says, "Sure, and there's really only one word which 
can express the beauty of this canon, and somehow I 
can't just think what that word is." 

Returning to the El Tovar Hotel we visit the near- 
by Hopi House where a small band of Hopis live in 
their primitive fashion; weaving blankets and mak- 
ing pottery which they offer for sale. 

We accept an invitation offered by one of the English- 
speaking hosts, and return in the evening, when we 
witness one of the ancient ceremonies of this tribe; a 
pleasure dance. Two Indians take part, each shaking 
a gaily decorated dried gourd. These redmen dance 
and sing as true aborigines. We find it a relief to 
inhale refreshing out-door air, for Indians certainly 
possess individuality, especially as regards odors. 

Our time is limited. We must be content with only 
a glimpse of the colossal details of the grandest canon in 
the world, for Captain Dutton says, "The Grand 
Canon is a great innovation in modern ideas of scenery, 
and in our conceptions of the grandeur, beauty, and 
power of nature as with all great innovations, it is not 



8 Glimpses Around the World 

to be comprehended in a day or a week, nor even a 
month." 

The early morning train makes connections at Wil- 
liams, Arizona, and we continue our trip westward. 

Leaving The Needles some twenty-four hours later 
we enter the charming State of California, and in Los 
Angeles set our watches back another hour. Though 
there is a difference of only two hours from Chicago 
time, it seems as if we have turned the calendar back 
several months. Instead of late autumn the weather 
suggests our midsummer, lawn gowns and sunshades 
seem to be the fashion of the day. 

We are charmed with the many attractive-looking 
bungalows or cottages, surrounded by blooming flower- 
gardens, and palm, magnolia, pepper and eucalyptus trees. 

We remember Los Angeles was founded in 1780 
by the Spaniards who named it Reina de los Angeles, 
the Queen of the Angels. 

An hour's trolley ride and a steamer trip along the 
coast carries us to St. Catalina Island, a well-known 
pleasure resort, where we are able to view the sub- 
marine forests. What a curious sensation we experi- 
ence, seated in the small glass-bottomed boat, as we 
look down into this perfectly transparent water. 
There is much seaweed below, one, a large plant with 
yellowish-green leaves and air berries, which, filled with 
air, grow straight up in the water, called kelp, from which 
iodine is extracted. Goldfish and shoals of sardines 
dart here and there, and suddenly there is a great splash- 
ing noise, and "blind Ben," a huge seal, greets us. 

We look up and around, not a person or house is 
visible, just a glorious blue sky, rugged mountains, flying 
sea-gulls, and this wide expanse of greenish-blue water. 
Surely we have floated away to some unknown clime. 

A few deft strokes by our oarsman and returning 
to shore we visit the aquarium, and there make the 



The Titan of Chasms 9 

acquaintance of an octopus, the strangest and most 
repulsive member of the finny family we have ever seen. 

Again in Los Angeles, we make a trolley excursion to 
Pasadena, the lovely spot in San Gabriel Valley; the 
American millionaire's winter Mecca, which is embow- 
ered in perpetual flowers. 

A night's trip on the "Owl Limited" carries us into 
San Francisco. Although about six months have 
elapsed since the awful earthquake, April 18, 1906, 
much debris and many ruined buildings are all we can 
recognize in the principal thoroughfares of this flourish- 
ing western metropolis. Situated at the end of a nar- 
row peninsula, the city is built on three hills, in the. 
shape of an amphitheater. 

Noisy crowds of busy men, and drays of baggage 
fill the wharf during the morning scheduled for our 
departure on the "Steamship Hongkong Maru. " 

We are busy seeing that our baggage is weighed and 
labeled before it is carried on board. Homeward bound 
Chinese and Japanese men, women, and children are 
rapidly filling the steerage deck. All business com- 
pleted, at promptly one o'clock P. M. the strokes of a 
bell summon all first-class passengers aboard, anchor is 
raised, and we find ourselves standing on promenade 
deck, enthusiastically waving farewell to the cheering 
crowds left on the wharf, as we sail through the Golden 
Gate and out into the blue Pacific, the twentieth 
century ocean. 

Now is the beginning of new things. A little 
Chinaman in white coat, trousers and felt slippers, 
walks up and down the deck. His almond-shaped eyes 
seem to look all around and behind while he strikes a 
huge gong, announcing that luncheon is being served. 

A farewell glance at the fast disappearing land, and 
we make our way down two decks to the dining salon, 
which proves an oft-recurring attraction. An active 



io Glimpses Around the World 

crew of pig-tailed Chinese waiters in long blue robes 
promptly care for the wants of the eighty first-class 
passengers. 

Guiltless of a Chinese word, we are delighted with 
the practical system arranged on the menu cards printed 
in English. Numerals precede each article referred 
to on the bill of fare, and all we need do is to mention 
the agreeing number and the article desired promptly 
appears upon the table, for example : 

i Vegetable Soup. 4 Salad. 

2 Curried Rice. 5 Fruit. 

3 Roast Beef. 6 Coffee. 

Steamer surprises from thoughtful friends keep 
us so busily entertained during the afternoon, we 
hardly realize the gradually increasing sway of our 
floating hotel. We find reclining wicker chairs on 
deck, a well-equipped library, writing, and music 
salons, and our cabins comfortably furnished with 
two good-sized berths, a lounge, wardrobe, and station- 
ary wash-basins, while a smiling yellow-skinned boy, 
"Ah Tee," attends to every comfort. 

We have been taught that "pacific" means peaceful, 
but during the days following, we are inclined to think 
that perhaps when the early voyagers christened this 
mightiest of oceans, the term applied had a different 
meaning. 

Uneventful life at sea is the best of rest-cures. 
During the third evening out, we suddenly realize that 
the steamer's propeller has stopped. Anxious to learn 
the cause we hurry to upper deck. A bell is solemnly 
tolling, during the few minutes the steamer does 
not move. A Japanese steerage passenger had died 
and his body, wrapped in a Japanese flag, is being 
lowered into the sea. A few pieces of coal placed 
inside the flag assists in sinking the corpse. 



CHAPTER II 

The Paradise of the Pacific 

ON the morning of the fifth day aboard we sight 
land which proves to be Oahu, the most thickly 
populated of the Hawaiian group, and which 
long ago gained the suggestive title of "the cross-roads 
of the Pacific." We are soon in port. The pilot-boat 
brings the doctor aboard, and after we have been col- 
lectively inspected in the dining salon our steamer 
lands at Honolulu, the capital city of the Sandwich 
Islands, and we are allowed to go ashore. 

How good it feels to touch terra firma, after having 
traveled 2,089 miles by sea. We barely have time to 
descend the gang-plank, before we are besieged by cab 
men and native flower women. The latter, swarthy- 
skinned natives look picturesque, gowned in comfort- 
able lawn "Mother-Hubbards, " called by the natives 
holoku. They are bedecked with lets, long chains of 
brightly-colored blossoms, which the women are anxious 
to sell to us for a few cents. 

We make our way through the extensive Mongolian 
quarters to the principal European business portion 
but find it comparatively inferior to the residence 
district. 

A comfortable phaeton drawn by two black horses 
passes. Beside the native driver sits a stout, dark- 
skinned woman with very black hair, enveloped in a 
neat bonnet. She bows graciously to us as she passes 
and we recognize her to be the deposed queen of 
Hawaii, Liliuokalani. We later visit her pretty home 
which is attractively situated in a grove of splendid 

(11) 



12 



Glimpses Around the World 



Royal Palm and Magnolia trees, whose large trunks 
remind us of polished pillars. Brilliant ly-hued hibis- 
cus, and naming poinsettia mingle in the profusion of 
foliage. 

Reaching away from the harbor are miles of coral 




Our First Glimpse of Honolulu. 



reefs, upon which the ocean swell dashes, "Back from 
the shore line twin mounds loom up amid a rolling 
plain suggesting some prehistoric earth confusion 
that rived a mountain in twain. " At the sides of these 



The Paradise of the Pacific 13 

formations lie vividly-green expanses of rice and 
sugar-cane cultivation. Indeed the latter seems to be 
the main industry of the territory. 

There is the now extinct volcanic cone called "Punch 
Bowl," while northward are lofty mountain ranges and 
beauteous valleys. Surely Honolulu can have few 
rivals the world round for beauty of situation, and may 
justly be called, "the Paradise of the Pacific." 

En route to Waikiki Beach we are surprised to find 
huge cocoanuts, and bunches of bananas, pineapples, 
and papayas ripening in the October tropical sun. 
The papaya, whose acquaintance we make in one of the 
shops of luscious fruits, is a distant member of the 
melon family, and though relished by the natives it 
does not appeal to our sense of taste. 

Pausing in front of the market place we notice the 
Chinese salesman, after selling some bit of fish or meat, 
deftly wraps the eatables in a large stout leaf, whose 
stem serves the customer as a convenient handle in 
transportation . 

A great variety of fish, suggesting swimming rain- 
bows, all caught in the Pacific, make their home in a 
new government aquarium. 

Lack of time prevents us from making an excursion 
to the historical precipice, Pali, for according to 
Hawaiian history, Kamehameha, the great conqueror, 
defeated the warriors of the King of Oahu in 1795, 
and they in desperation leaped from the pali rather 
than live to see their island subjugated. 

Long before the sunny isles were annexed to the 
United States, we remember Mark Twain described 
their charm thus, "No alien land in all the world has 
any deep, strong charm for me but that one ; no other 
land could so longingly and beseechingly haunt me 
sleeping and waking, through more than half a life- 
time, as that one has done. Other things leave me, 



14 Glimpses Around the World 

but it abides; other things change, but it remains the 
same. For me its balmy airs are always blowing, its 
summer seas flashing in the sun; the pulsing of its 
surf beats in my ear; I can see its garland crags, its 
leaping cascades, its plumy palms drowsing by the 
shore; its remote summits floating like islands above 
the cloud-rack; I can feel the spirit of its woodland 
solitude; I can hear the splash of its brooks; in my 
nostril still lives the breath of flowers that perished 
twenty years ago. 

We wonder if these are the Islands of the Blest where 
deified Greek heroes are supposed to have led a life 
free from care and sorrow. 

We, too, would tarry here, but, coaling is done, 
provisions have been restocked, and our steamer is 
ready to continue her course. 

Before ascending the gang-plank, we follow the 
custom of the natives and purchase some of the colored 
lets. We decorate one another with the long floral 
garlands, it is a pretty custom. 

We notice several native passengers who have come 
aboard profusely entwined in blossoms, and as our 
steamer raises anchor these honored travelers throw 
several of the lets back to the waving friends on 
shore. The garden island with its wealth of beauty 
gradually fades from our view, and we turn our faces 
again to the blue horizon. 

The following ten days are restful days of sea life. 
Oh! what a joy to witness a tropical sunset at sea; 
every superlative in the English language fails to ex- 
press the enchantment. 

On Monday evening, three days off Honolulu's 
coast, our steamer crosses what is recognized to be the 
center of the globe, — the place where the greatest of 
oceans swallows up a whole day at once. The chef, 
having prepared an unusually good dinner, we eat most 



The Paradise of the Pacific 15 

generously knowing we must now fast until Wednesday 
breakfast. We are enjoying a moonlight dance on 
deck while we try to watch for some sign in the deep 
blue waters, which will show us where Monday ends, 
Tuesday vanishes, and Wednesday begins. Alas, 
nothing unusual happens. Beyond the deck all is 
vacant darkness, except for chaperoning fair Luna and 
the twinkling stars. The clock strikes midnight. The 
captain, returning from the bridge, says, " Well, my 
good people, are you not tired from your long frolic? 
It is now Wednesday morning. ' ' We all feel so con- 
fused. We know we began dancing Monday evening; 
how shocked will our elders at home be, when we tell 
them we danced with the same partners from Monday 
evening until Wednesday morning. Yes, it's true. 
How quickly time passes, especially on the 180th 
degree of west longitude and the 180th degree of east 
longitude, known as the International Date Line. 

Now we can readily understand the miscalculations 
of our predecessor, Jules Verne. All day Wednesday 
we are puzzled as to what we did on Tuesday. 

After recrossing the Tropic of Cancer, we enjoy a 
three days' sporting tournament on deck. The pas- 
sengers contribute to a purse, and prizes, bought at the 
souvenir booth on our steamer, are awarded by an 
appointed body of judges. Quoits, shuffle-board, 
wheelbarrow, potato, needle and thread races, drawing, 
and pillow contests, as well as many other clever con- 
trivances are thoroughly enjoyed by the congenial 
passengers, who are contestants and spectators. After 
the games on promenade deck, the steerage passengers 
are invited to enter several contests, which we attend 
on the lower division of the ship. There are Japanese 
wrestlers, fencers, and tricksters, who deservingly win 
appropriate prizes, donated by generous first-cabin 
passengers. 



1 6 Glimpses Around the World 

One bright sunny morning, while reclining in our 
steamer chairs on deck, we notice quantities of small 
sheets of yellowish colored paper fluttering through the 
air. It seems to come from the steerage section. 
While we are wondering as to its purpose, the attentive 
little Japanese deck steward serves us with bouillon 
and wafers. He tells us a Chinaman has passed away 
during the night, and the paper we see flying is money 
for the dead. Friends of the deceased offer this bribe 
to the Celestials' St. Peter to assist the departed soul 
on its journey to Eternity, while the body is carried 
to China for interment. 

A Captain's Dinner and Recital given by volunteered 
talent ends our delightful eighteen-days ' voyage. 



CHAPTER III 

The Flowery Kingdom 

"TAPANESE is probably, all things considered, the 

■ most difficult language on the face of the earth, ' ' 

says Chamberlain. Though we shall not attempt 

to study it, it may be helpful to learn this formula 

for pronunciation: 

Japanese Pronunciation. 

a like a in father. at as in aisle. 

e like e in men. ei as in weigh. 

i like i in pin. au) . , 

-,.-, . - has o m bone. 

o like o m pony. o J 

u like oo in book. u as oo in moon. 

i in the middle of a word and u in the middle, or 
at the end of a word are sometimes almost inaudible. 
The consonants are all sounded as in English: g, 
however, has only the hard sound, as in "give," 
although the nasal ng is often heard; ch and 5 are 
always soft as in "cheek" and " sin, " and z before u 
has the sound of "dz. " In the case of double con- 
sonants, each one must be given its full sound. There 
are as many syllables as vowels. There is practically 
no accent; but care must be taken to distinguish be- 
tween o and o, u and u, of which the second is more 
prolonged than the first. Be sure to avoid the flat 
sound of a which is always pronounced " ah. " 

During the early hours of a cool sunny morning, our 
ship drops anchor in Yokohama Bay. There is Yoko- 

d7) 



1 8 Glimpses Around the World 

suka, the great dockyard, and arsenal of the Japanese 
navy. 

Lo! in the distance gracefully rises the Sacred Snow- 
crowned mountain Fujiyama, "the lady of mountains. " 

Sampans, launches and broad-sailed junks gather 
about our vessel. The uniformed Japanese doctor, 
coming on board, accepts the steamer physician's re- 
port, that we are all in good health. 

A Japanese runner whose cap is marked "Grand 




Fujiyama. 

Hotel, ' ' introduces himself in broken English, and 
offers to take charge of our large baggage. He will 
clear it at the custom-house if we give him our keys, 
for which he hands us checks curiously decorated in 
Japanese characters. 

We go ashore in the Grand Hotel launch, have our 
hand-bags and suit-cases chalked by the customs 



The Flowery Kingdom 19 

officers, at the hatoba or landing place, and learning 
the hotel is just along the Bund, we decide to walk. 
Arrival in a new land is always delightful. No, we 
must not walk. Occidentals are not allowed to walk. 
We no sooner reach the street than we are surrounded 
by coolies and jinrikishas ; old men, young men, some 
with large mushroom-shaped straw hats, others br. re- 
headed. They wear long blue shirts, with narrow 
bands of white sewed on in fantastic Japanese ideo- 
graphs which serve as sign boards, tight-fitting trousers 
and straw sandals. All are persistent .in soliciting our 
patronage, "You like me." "I take you to hotel." 
"I vely good boey, take me." We submit to these 
entreaties, and are soon seated in a little two- wheeled 
carriage just large enough to accommodate one person. 

The coolie holding onto the shafts, starts on a trot 
down the Bund, a broad boulevard, planted with trees 
which overlooks the bay, and is lined on one side with 
well-constructed European buildings. 

We hardly take time to notice the scene about us, 
for we are experiencing such a queer sensation. Have 
we gone back to our babyhood that we are again enjoy- 
ing life in a perambulator? The two wheels of the 
jinrikisha rotate rapidly, while our coolie keeps up an 
even trot. We learn the compound word jin-riki- 
sha means literally, man-power- vehicle, that is vehicle 
pulled by a man, or as the late Mr. Babel wittily sug- 
gested a "Pullman-car." 

At the entrance of the Grand Hotel we pay each 
coolie 15 sen, about eight cents American money, for 
which the smiling Japs bow graciously. American 
management at the Grand Hotel furnishes us with 
very comfortable accommodations at about 10 yen 
per day, or about five dollars. We find attendants 
dressed in European costumes who understand and 
speak some English; all are Japanese except the 



20 



Glimpses Around the World 



cashier, a pigtailed Chinaman, who wears a long black 
robe and black skull cap. Our room attendant, called 
boey is a willing, gray-haired Japanese man. In a 
prettily arranged dining salon we enjoy tiffin or 
luncheon and, as on board the steamer, we soon master 
the Japanese language, by ordering according to num- 
bers. The food and service is good. English is mostly 
spoken by the guests, and we can hardly realize we are 
now in the Land of the Rising Sun. 

In jinrikishas engaged at the hotel we make our first 




Our First Jinrikisha Ride. 

trip to the native Japanese quarter, which is ten times 
as large as the European district we now call " home. ' ' 
Yokohama, like all seaport towns, presents an odd 
intermixture of native and foreign characteristics; old 
and new Japan here jostle one another in the queerest 
fashion, Chinese lanterns, and electric lights, bare legs 
and stovepipe hats, straw sandals and patent leather 
shoes mingle in the most incongruous way. The streets 
are not paved, but when it rains the natives are not 



The Flowery Kingdom 21 

troubled for they wear geta, or wooden shoes with 
cioss pieces set beneath which raise them two or three 
inches off the ground. 

Low, one or two-storied wooden structures line the 
principal thoroughfares, but what appeals to us as most 
curious is that the floors are raised about two feet from 
the ground in one high step, and the front of each house 
is taken off by day. The Japanese men, women, and 
children seem to live in public view. Perhaps this ac- 
counts for their long practiced, and now seemingly per- 
fected, external ceremonial type of manner. They 
are always smiling and charmingly diplomatic, for 
their faces and manners never reveal their thoughts. 
Even when we do not remove our shoes, before entering 
their shops, they are not discourteous, though they 
consider it a breach of etiquette. 

Shops of embroidery, lacquer, cloisonne, metal-work 
and porcelain, situated along or near Honcho-dori, and 
Benten-dori, are so enticing, we can hardly resist buying 
everything we see. 

"Why do the Japanese never tire of flying storks, 
cherry-blossoms, flitting butterflies, drooping wisteria, 
swimming fish, chrysanthemums and bamboo? They 
seem to want them on every article they use. The 
Japanese make love to Nature, and it almost seems as 
if Nature heard their silent prayer, and smiled upon 
them in acceptance ; for nowhere probably in the world 
is Nature lovelier than in Japan. Rich or poor, cultured 
or ignorant, every man, woman and child who loves 
Nature can understand and appreciate the deepest and 
most beautiful artistic creation. Surely this accounts 
for the universal popularity of Japanese art. 

We visit a cloisonne factory, and find several Jap 
men sitting on floor cushions. Some are busily engaged 
engraving designs on copper vases, other men are out- 
lining similar engraved pieces with raised copper wire, 



22 Glimpses Around the World 

while a third group of artists are filling the outlined de- 
signs with many shades of pasty enamel. We are told 
that each piece must be fired five times and polished, 
before it is considered a finished piece of cloisonne. 
The artistic detail of the workmanship, and the material 
on which it is executed, of course govern the price of the 
article. We see some small silver ornaments of delicate 
work which are very expensive, but the majority of 
so-called silver vases are made of a cheaper metal, 
with a silvery paper beneath the glazing. 

In one of the open-faced houses, a half dozen boys 
from perhaps fourteen to eighteen years of age are sit- 
ting on the floor around a large embroidery frame. On 
it is stretched a long piece of white silk. Back and 
forth the needles are plied by the busy hands, producing 
floral creations which for beauty of shading rival Na- 
ture's handiwork. 

Returning to the hotel we pass a large persimmon 
tree well-loaded with luscious-looking deep orange- 
colored fruit, but not a leaf is visible on its grayish 
branches. 

We visit the beautiful European residences on the 
heights, and the " One Hundred Stone Step Tea House, " 
known as the "Abode of the Wisteria," where two 
dainty Japanese maidens, who look as though they had 
just stepped from a painted fan or vase, serve us with 
delicious tea, which we enjoy in the garden at the front 
of the house. Here are chairs and benches, just for 
our comfort, for of course the natives always sit on the 
floor. 

We peep through a slit in the glazed rice-paper sliding 
wall, into the living apartment, which looks like a 
doll's house. There is little furniture ; a straw matting 
covers the floor, in the center of which is a copper pot 
filled with hot charcoals, and called by the natives 
hibachi. Perhaps the screen we see, conceals the floor- 



The Flowery Kingdom 



23 



quilt on which the little maidens sleep, with their 
heads on the queer wooden head-rests. A low shelf 
at the side of one wall serves as buffet ; on it is kept the 
dainty tea-service, and lovely lacquer tray. The 




Which Is Married? 



w T alls are decorated with pictures of birds and flowers, 
and in an obscure corner we find a small shrine, before 
which burns incense. There is a tall, narrow, brass 
vase with two chrysanthemum blossoms. 

The little women who wait upon us, wear dark- 



24 



Glimpses Around the World 



colored flowing kimonos. If we could peep into the 
sleeves of their kimonos, which serve as the handiest of 
pockets, we should no doubt find several bits of smooth, 
tough paper which serve as handkerchiefs, a dainty 
pair of chop-sticks, and perhaps a small handleless 
cup, for tea. 

Their shining black hair is neatly arranged high 
upon their heads. The older woman wears one large 
back puff, which designates she is married, while the 




Torii. 

other dainty creature's puff, is divided in the center 
with a gilt enameled ornament, she being unmarried. 

In the early morning we prepare for an excursion to 
Kamakura, which until the middle of the fifteenth 
century was the populous capital of eastern Japan, 
but now a quiet seaside village. A half -hour's jinrik- 
isha ride from the hotel lands us at the railroad station, 
and in first-class, leather-seated compartments, we con- 
tinue our trip of eighteen miles by rail. 



The Flowery Kingdom 25 

Miniature gardens extend along the sloping hillsides 
and scantily-clad coolies are at work in the irrigated 
rice-fields. In about forty minutes we reach Kama- 
kura. Engaging coolies and jinrikishas, we ride along 
a wide avenue shaded with century-old cryptomeria 
trees, through a stone gateway or torn, which marks 
the entrance of a Shinto temple. 

We ascend a flight of stone steps; nearby stands a 
very large and beautiful icho tree, said to be one 
thousand years old. Its foliage swaying in the sun- 
light resembles a mass of gold. 

The temple of Hachiman, dedicated to the God of 
War, dates from the twelfth century. Two hideous 
red lacquered wooden images guard the entrance. On 
the wire gratings in front of them are hung slips of 
paper, while innumerable spit-balls are sticking to 
either nose, chest, or leg of these awful looking idols. 
We learn that these have been thrown by devotees 
who first chewed up their prayers, and then discharged 
them with force at the object of their worship. 

A custodian, who speaks a little English, collects 
twenty sen from each of us, and then leads the way 
around a museum, containing ancient armor used by 
the Shoguns. He points with special pride to all 
articles which belonged to the beloved young Shogun 
Sanetemo, who was assassinated near the old icho tree 
we just passed. 

We find our coolies waiting for us at the foot of the 
stone steps, and are soon traveling single file through 
narrow streets well lined with bamboo huts. 

Through an avenue of giant trees we approach the 
Daibutsu or Great Buddha, which stands alone among 
Japanese works of art. It was cast by the celebrated 
glyptic artist, OnoGo-bo-ye-mon, in September, 12^2 
A. D. 

The blue of the sky, the deep somber color of the 



26 



Glimpses Around the World 



bronze, and the brilliancy of the foliage fill this solemn 
retreat with the richest effects of light and color. The 
gigantic Divinity, in a sitting posture, with head 
slightly bent forward, suggests an attitude of con- 




Daibutsu. 



templative ecstasy. The image is formed of sheets of 
bronze, cast separately, brazed together, and finished 
off on the outside with a chisel. The statue is about 
fifty feet high, forty feet broad, with eyes of pure 
gold measuring three feet, and the mouth seven feet 



The Flowery Kingdom 27 

long. Once covered by a temple, its majestic effect 
must have been wholly lost, but a great earthquake 
wave rolled in from the ocean, and swept away the 
temple, leaving the mighty, still- dreaming Buddha 
unstirred from its base. Now century on century 
it sits under the open sky, rain descends, light- 
ning flashes, woods rock in roaring gales, dynas- 
ties rise and fall, Lilliputian tourists, like ourselves, 
peer and peep about this brooding presence, but 
the Great Buddha, dwelling in Nirvana, is oblivious 
of it all. Our guide tells us this image represents 
Amida the ideal of boundless light, a powerful deity 
dwelling in a lovely paradise to the west. It is recog- 
nized by the hands lying on the lap, with the thumbs 
placed end to end, a halo forms a back-ground to the 
entire body, and the spot in the middle of the fore- 
head is emblematic of wisdom. And here we stand 
before this stupendous symbol of the faith of millions 
of our fellow creatures. The interior of the image being 
hollow, we are allowed, upon the payment of a small fee, 
to ascend a ladder up into the head, which contains a 
small shrine. 

In our baby-carriages we next visit the old temple 
of Kwannon. An attending priest leads us into a 
darkened room, behind the altar, where, with lighted 
candles which work on a rope pulley, we are permitted 
to view the great image of the Goddess of Mercy, made 
of bronze lacquer heavily gilded. The light as it is 
moved in front of it is so dim that we are unable to dis- 
tinguish the splendid workmanship of this figure, 
which stands about thirty feet in height. 

Our journey to Enoshima consumes about an hour 
with an electric trolley car, followed by a walk across 
a long foot-bridge. We obtain an excellent view of 
snow-crowned Fuji, often called Fuji-san, that is 
Mount Fuji, and by the poets, Fuji-no-yama, or Fuji- 



28 



Glimpses Around the World 



yama; the most famous mountain in Japan. Though 
rising 12,395 feet above the level of the sea, we are easily 
able to distinguish its very summit. This is no doubt 
due to the fact that the atmosphere of Japan is the 
most transparent in the world. 

Shops for all kinds of objects made of shells, corals, 
seaweed and sponges lie along the main street of the 




Enoshimaites. 

village, which finally leads us to the entrance of a 
curious old sacred cavern. We hurry as we pass the 
many odorous shops, where raw dried fish, a Japanese 
delicacy, is for sale. Swarms of children fill the streets 
and doorways. Little girls perhaps six years old are 
carrying twenty-pound baby brothers tied to their little 
backs. It is indeed apropos, that the stork is the na- 
tional bird of "Dai Nippon." Few of these Enoshi- 



The Flowery Kingdom 29 

maites speak or even understand a word of English 
but they all greet us with affable bows and smiles. 

Jinrikishas carry us back to Fujisawa, where we get 
the steam train to Yokohama. It is dusk when we 
alight from the train. What joy is ours to find the 
same smiling "Grand Hotel coolies," who brought us 
to the station this morning, waiting with their jinrik- 
ishas for our return. Seated comfortably in our indi- 
vidual cabs, our minds are at rest as well as our limbs. 
We are tired from our day's excursion, and know we 
shall find soothing comforts when we reach the Grand 
Hotel. 

The streets are poorly lighted, but each jinrikisha 
has a pretty Japanese lantern attached to the shaft. 
Traveling single file as we do, the dotted lights add a 
charm to our unique procession. 

An elaborate dinner in the beautifully decorated 
dining salon, with an orchestra playing American 
patriotic music, reminds us this was Thanksgiving 
Day. We are served with every delicacy the term 
"Thanksgiving Dinner" suggests to the minds of all 
Americans, and yet the day has been spent sight- 
seeing in a heathen country. It is an occasion we shall 
long remember. 

With considerable difficulty we succeed in winning 
the consent of those of our party who are infected with 
the mania of curio buying, to leave Yokohama, and 
make the pilgrimage to the famous memorial templed 
city of Nikko. In comfortable first-class railway 
carriages, which are heated by means of foot warmers 
laid through the center aisle, we travel to Shimbashi 
station, in Tokyo. We cross the city, in the ever- 
present and comforting jinrikishas and at the Ueno 
station find the northern train for Nikko. 

Nikko, which means " sunny splendor, " is the name 
of a small town, which lies in a lovely valley surrounded 



30 Glimpses Around the World 

by high hills clad with magnificent cryptomeria trees. 
It is also the name of a whole mountainous district, 
which lies about one hundred miles north of Tokyo. 

Our train makes a gradual ascent, during the five- 
hours' trip, and we find the autumnal tinted foliage, 
which covers the mountain sides, exquisite. An 
annai-sha, or guide, greets us at the station Hachi- 
ishi, where we alight, and engaging jinrikishas we pass 
through the village to the Nikko Hotel, where accom- 
modations have been engaged for our party. We are 
just in time to be served with tea by the attractive 
doll-like damsels in flowing kimonos and beautiful 
obis or sashes. 

After refreshments we walk down a lovely winding 
avenue, which has been cut through the forest of huge 
cryptomerias that border the banks of the rushing 
Daiya Gawa, a mountain stream which has washed its 
way over many fallen boulders. The century-old 
magnificent trunks of these cryptomerias tower to an 
enormous height and beauty. Oh! how would our 
devout and Nature-loving Asa Gray have worshiped 
here, where arboreal architecture is on so stupendous 
a scale that the aisles of a Cologne Cathedral dwindle 
into insignificance in comparison. 

Many Japanese pictures illustrate the famous Sacred 
Red Bridge, or Mihashi, and here we are where Saint 
Shodo Shonins on one of his pilgrimages in the ninth 
century found his way barred by a broad river, which 
poured its torrents over huge rocks. According to 
legend, the Saint fell upon his knees and prayed, 
whereupon there appeared on the opposite bank a 
Divine Being of colossal size, dressed in blue and black 
robes, and having a string of skulls around his neck. 
This Being, or God, cried out that he would help the 
Saint pass the stream, and then he flung across the 
river two green and blue snakes which he held in his 



The Flowery Kingdom 31 

right hand. In an instant a long bridge was seen to 
span the waters, like a rainbow floating among the hills, 
but when the Saint had crossed and reached the north- 
ern bank, both the God and the snake bridge vanished. 

The beautiful Sacred Red Lacquer Bridge is in a state 
of restoration, since the great flood in 1902. It was 
originally erected in 1638, in connection with memorial 
shrines to the patron saint Shodo Shonins and, except 
twice a year, all persons other than the Mikado, are ex- 
cluded from crossing it. It has been said that, "No 
words can adequately tell the wonders of Nikko. To 
do it justice one would need the poet's art, the painter's 
brush, and, more than that, power to convey a vital 
warmth of feeling. 

Early in the morning comes a tap at our door, and in 
glides the daintiest of minaiture girls, in loose, flowered 
kimono, with a tray of coffee and toast, known as 
gozen or early breakfast. A simple warm toilet, and 
we are ready to follow our guide Hamna to the 
Mangwanji or Temple Enclosure, which is but a few 
minutes' walk from the hotel. 

We first visit the Sambutsu-do, or Hall of the Three 
Buddhas. At the entrance we must remove our 
shoes, but Hamna supplies us with felt slippers which 
prove a comforting substitute. A sight of splendor 
meets our eyes in the elaborate gold lacquer ornamen- 
tation over and about the altar. Here is the bronze 
three-footed urn with a Japanese dog represented 
on the top, also the huge bronze stork candle-stick 
with a turtle base, copies of which we find in all 
curio shops. Our guide says, "the stork, the national 
bird of Japan, suggests one thousand years, while the 
turtle symbolizes ten thousand years. 

We procure tickets at one yen, about fifty cents 
American money, and pass behind the main altar to 
view the gigantic gilt images of the Thousand- Handed 



32 Glimpses Around the World 

Kwannon, Amida, and the Horse-Headed Kwannon. 
Our guide tells us, " Kwannon, or Goddess of Mercy, 
contemplates the world and listens to the prayers of 
the unhappy. The so-called Thousand- Handed Kwan- 
non has in reality but forty hands, which hold out a 
number of Buddhist emblems, such as the lotus flower, 
the wheel of the law, the sun and moon, a skull, a 
pagoda, and an axe, this last serving to typify severance 
from all worldly cares. The pair of hands folded on the 
image's lap hold the bowl of the mendicant priest. 

The Horse-Headed Kwannon has three faces and 
four pairs of arms, a horse's head being carved above 
the forehead of the central face. One of the four pairs 
of arms is clasped before the breast in the attitude 
called, Renge no In, emblematic of the lotus flower. 
Another pair holds the axe and wheel. Yet another 
pair grasps two forms of the tokko, an ornament 
originally designed to represent a diamond club, and 
now used by priests as a religious scepter, symbolizing 
the irresistible power of prayer, meditation, and incan- 
tation. Of the fourth pair of hands, the left holds a 
cord wherewith to bind the wicked, while the right is 
stretched out open, to indicate alms-giving, or succor 
to the weak and erring. A title often applied to Kwan- 
non is Nyo-i-rin, properly the name of a gem, which 
is supposed to enable its possessor to gratify all his 
desires, and which may be approximately rendered by 
the adjective " omnipotent. " 

In passing before these idols we see several native 
devotees kneeling in prayer. We purchase a little 
booklet from the attending priest, who tells us, through 
the medium of our interpreting guide, that the image 
of this idol if carried always brings good luck. 

Just outside the temple we pause before a pillar 
called Sorinto. It is a cylinder- shaped black copper 
column about forty- two feet high, and is supported by 



The Flowery Kingdom 33 

horizontal bars crossing through its center, which rests 
on shorter columns of the same material. We are told 
that the pillar was erected in 1643, f° r "the sake of 
averting evil influences. 

The pagoda style of immense curving and over- 
hanging roofs of the temples is very effective. Their 
great height and sweep for ornamentation gives them a 
distinct and noble form of construction. 

We walk through a broad avenue of cryptomeria 
trees, and up a massive flight of stone stairs through 
the gateway, or gray granite torii, presented by the 
Daimyo of Chikuzen in 161 8. We admire the graceful 
five-storied pagoda, which rises about one hundred and 
four feet from the ground. It is decorated with life- 
like painted carvings of the twelve signs of the Zodiac. 

We pass through an elaborately-decorated gateway, 
into a courtyard surrounded by a bright red wall. 
Here are three handsome buildings used as store 
houses. A stone fence surrounds a large tree, which 
some people claim to be the identical plant which, 
when it was small enough to be held in a flower-pot, 
Iyeyasu carried about with him in his palanquin. 

Our guide points, with special interest to the beauti- 
fully carved stable, where the sacred white pony used 
to be kept. Over the doorway we recognize the clever 
group of three monkeys, so often reproduced. The 
Japanese term, Koshin, or Day of the Monkey, is rep- 
resented by these three apes, who neither speak, hear, 
or see any evil. 

Opposite is the holy- water cistern made of one piece 
of granite, from which many devotees drink, and be- 
yond are the bell-tower, a bronze candelabrum, and 
the " Moth-eaten Bell, ' : presented by the King of Korea, 
and so-called because there is a hole in the top, just 
under the ring by which it is suspended. This is but 
one of the many great Japanese bells about the temples, 



34 



Glimpses Around the World 



whose deep prolonged hums, hums, suggest the myste- 
rious murmuring ocean. There are many huge and 
artistic lanterns; one of bronze, dating back to 1292, 
is supposed, according to a legend, to have turned into a 
demon, and scared people on dark nights. According 
to the superstitious tale, once a brave warrior attacked 
it with his sword, and the wound, which we are shown, 
proves to be a crack in the lantern. 

We visit the Temple of Yakushi, whose interior 




KOSHIN. 

ornamentation has no parallel in Nikko. The four 
main pillars, running to the center of the temple, are 
very elaborately decorated in gold lacquer; each cost- 
ing ten thousand yen, about five thousand dollars. 

The blaze of gold and resplendent colors of the 
painted mythological beings and ancient court per- 
sonages, the precious inlaid and carved woods, and 
splendid metal- work, tell us that here the acme of 



The Flowery Kingdom 35 

Japanese Buddhistic art is reached. The splendor 
above is reflected, as in a limpid pool, as we gaze into 
the mirrored lacquer floor beneath. We pause before 
the gold gohei, a sort of rack on which are hung 
many gold strips, or sprigs of the Sakaki tree, for we 
have learned the present Emperor, Mutso Hito, pre- 
sents this temple with one golden strip each year. 

Here a wise-looking elderly Japanese priest, in flowing 
white robes, squats before a low shrine. His eyes are 
fastened on an open book in Sanskrit, while yonder we 
see another priest sitting on the matting before a low 
table on which are several tiny cups of sacred saki. 
A dainty looking little lady followed by her husband, 
for we learn they are bride and groom, both dressed in 
dark flowing kimonos, make their way to this table. 
They bow, offer a brief prayer, and, squatting, drink of 
the sacred liquor, after which they place several coins 
beside the empty handleless cup, and again bowing, 
take their leave. This service is supposed to insure the 
young couple wedded bliss. 

We notice a certain immense octagonal structure, 
filled with many scrolls of Buddhistic literature, which 
revolves on a kind of capstan fitted with handspikes. 
We are told that the most ignorant peasant, who turns 
this around once, is entitled to the same merit, as he 
who reads every sacred writing stored within. One of 
our party suggests the installation of such a structure 
in our theological schools. A huge box at the entrance 
of the temple serves as a depository for contributions, 
which the kneeling worshipers throw between the iron 
bars at the top. 

We next visit the nearby museum and en route pass a 
small temple, where a priestess, a young woman in white 
kimono and Napoleon-shaped hat of the same color, 
sits on the matting- covered floor. We place some coins 
beside her, and in acknowledgment, she solemnly rises 



$6 Glimpses Around the World 

and performs what is known as kagura. In her right 
hand she holds a fan, while in her left is something 
which suggests a large-sized rattle, to which are at- 
tached several small bells. She bows and after two 
minutes of pantomime, or blended movements of the 
upper and lower extremities, during which time the 
tinkling of the tiny bells serves as an accompaniment, 
she again bows, readjusts herself on the matting and 
the sacred dance is over. An extra fee admits us to the 
museum, which contains an interesting collection of 
lacquered articles, armor and robes, which belonged to 
the early shoguns. 

Shedding our felt shoes we ascend about two hundred 
moss-grown stone steps, and reach the spot where the 
ashes of Iyeyasu, the greatest ruler of Japan, are in- 
terred. The pagoda-shaped tomb is of light-colored 
bronze, and before it stands a low stone table on which 
is a bronze stork candlestick, an incense-burner and a 
vase decorated with lotus flowers. The whole is sur- 
rounded by a massive stone wall. 

We are interested in learning, that Shogun Iyeyasu 
died in the same year as our myriad-minded Shakes- 
peare, 1616, and though first buried at Kimozan, the 
following year his remains were brought here to Nikko. 

We find the Japanese temples widely different in use 
and purpose from our own churches. They are always 
set in the midst of immense spaces and superb groves, 
for they furnish the park and play-grounds. Temples 
and tea-houses meet and kiss one another ; for the 
devotees say their prayers quickly, and then adjourn 
for rice, tea, and a chat. We follow the example of the 
natives, and stop at the nearby sheltered refreshment 
house. Sitting on the matting we are served with 
tea and saki in tiny bowls, or cups. One sip of the 
latter beverage suffices, for the liquid, fermented rice 
juice, seems to be chiefly composed of alcohol. 



The Flowery Kingdom 



37 



We visit the Mausoleum of Iyemitsu, the third Sho- 
gun of the ■ Takugawa line, built in the same style as 
that of Iyeyasu, but the bronze is of a darker color. 

We know that the " Torii ' ' is the easiest sign whereby 




A Shinto Priest. 



to distinguish a Shinto from a Buddhist temple, for 
both religions are practiced by the Japanese people, 
but we are interested to learn that the term "Shinto" 
is a Chinese word meaning "the Ways of the Gods," 
and is really a compound of Nature worship and Ances- 



38 



Glimpses Around the World 



tor worship. It has gods and goddesses of the wind, 
ocean, fire, food, of mountains and rivers; about eight 
hundred deities in all. The Sun Goddess, honored 
above all the rest, was the ancestress of the line of 




A Temple in Nikko. 



heaven-descended Mikados, who have reigned in un- 
broken succession from the beginning of the world. 
Her chief shrine is at Ise, the Mecca of Japan. Shin- 
toism has scarcely any regular service in which the 
people take part. 



The Flowery Kingdom 39 

" Follow your natural impulses to obey the Mikado's 
decrees," — is their theory of human duty. Preaching 
forms no part of the institution, nor are the rewards 
and punishments of a future life used as incentives to 
right conduct. The continued existence of the dead 
is believed in, but whether it is a condition of joy or 
pain is nowhere revealed. 

The wooden architecture of the Japanese temples is 
very attractive when new and freshly lacquered, but, 
unlike the stone ruins of Europe, it often becomes 
dowdy under neglect. However, to us decay is not 
the characteristic features of these temples and we 
find them far more artistic than religious. 

Here are exquisite specimens of Japanese art of the 
various periods, which for richness of carving and color- 
ing we think cannot be surpassed anywhere in the 
world. Yes, Nikko is a glory of Nature and Art, and 
having seen the city of temples, the abode of the illus- 
trous dead, we are privileged, according to the Japanese 
proverb, to use the term "magnificent." 

The season is too far advanced for an enjoyable 
excursion to the beautiful Lake Chuzenji, so we must 
content ourselves with a hurried visit to some of the 
excellent curio shops before taking the train back to 
Tokyo. 

Sasaya Kobayashi, a wealthy and intellectual Jap- 
anese gentleman, known as the king of curio dealers, 
seems interested in showing us his museum and adjoin- 
ing home, which looks out into a picturesque garden. 
Madame Kobayashi speaks no English, but she proves 
a charming hostess and takes pains to show us how the 
futons, or heavy floor quilts, on which the members 
of her family sleep, are arranged at night. We are in- 
clined to feel disappointed in finding practically no 
furniture in the homes of these wealthy natives. If 
we were here in the early morning we should no doubt 



40 Glimpses Around the World 

be invited to partake in the ceremony of the daily bath, 
whose temperature, being about no degrees Fahren- 
heit, takes the place of a stove. Of course we know, 
being the guests of honor, we should be the last to 
plunge into the general household bath. - 

Tokyo, which translated means Eastern Capital, 
is to Yokohama what London is to Liverpool. Situ- 
ated at the north of Yeddo Bay, the capital of Japan 
covers an area of about one hundred square miles, with 
a population of about one and one-half million. With 
the exception of those of Nikko, the temples of Shiba 
are perhaps the loveliest in Japan. 

The park through which we must pass was formerly 
the grounds of the great Buddhist temple, Zojoji. Of 
course we are obliged to slip on felt overshoes before 
we are permitted to view the interior of the Mortuary 
temples and shrines, many of which we find lavishly 
decorated in gold and brilliantly colored arabesques. 
In jinrikishas we visit the Buddhist temple of Senga- 
kuji, the resting place of the far-famed " Forty-seven 
Ronins. " Listening to Mitford's "Tales of Old 
Japan," we must admire the loyality and courage of 
these Nipponese heroes. " Ronin" means literally a 
wave man, one who is tossed about hither and thither, 
as a wave of the sea. 

It was the beginning of the eighteenth century, that 
a high official named Kira Kotsuke no Suke was selected 
by the Shogun to teach the Lords Asano Takumi no 
Kami and Kamei Sama the proper court ceremonies, 
which were to be observed during the reception of the 
Imperial Envoy. Kotsuke no Suke, being a greedy 
man, was dissatisfied with the gifts presented by the 
two daimios in return for his teaching, and he ex- 
hibited a feeling of hatred. Takumi no Kami bore 
his insults with patience, but Kamei Sama having less 
control over his temper determined to kill Kotsuke no 



The Flowery Kingdom 41 

Suke. He confided in his chief counselor, a man of 
great judgment, who, unknown to Kamei Sama, won the 
favor of Kotsuke no Suke, by collecting a large sum of 
money and presenting it to Kotsuke no Suke with 
Kamei Sama's compliments. At the next meeting 
Kotsuke no Suke was agreeable to Kamei Sama, who 
promptly forgot his threats of death. Takumi no 
Kami, having sent no sum of money, was treated with 
such insult by Kotsuke no Suke, that he attempted to 
kill the high official, but Kotsuke no Suke escaped with 
the aid of his followers. According to law, Takumi 
no Kami had committed an outrage and was obliged to 
perform hara kiri, or commit suicide. His goods 
were confiscated, his family ruined and his retainers, 
forty-seven in number, became ronins. Their 
leader was Oishi Kuranosuke, who organized a league 
to avenge Takumi no Kami's death. After much 
scheming, during which time Oishi Kuranosuke lived 
the life of a drunkard and divorced his wife, Kotsuke 
no Suke was attacked in his own palace. Then Kuran- 
osuke appeared before Kotsuke no Suke and said: 
" My Lord, we are the retainers of Asano Takumi no 
Kami. Last year your lordship and our master 
quarreled in the palace and our master was sentenced 
to hara kiri, and his family was ruined. We have 
come to-night to avenge him, as is the duty of faithful 
and loyal men. I pray your lordship to acknowledge 
the justice of our purpose. And now, my lord, we 
beseech you to perform hara kiri. I, myself, shall 
have the honor to act as your second, and when, with all 
humility, I shall have received your lordship's head, it 
is my intention to lay it as an offering upon the grave 
of Asano Takumi no Kami. 

Kotsuke no Suke was unwilling to commit suicide 
like a nobleman, and Kuranosuke beheaded him. 
Then, the " Forty-seven Ronins ' ' made their way to the 



42 Glimpses Around the World 

grave of their master. On the way they were furnished 
with wine and gruel, through the kindness of the Prince 
of Sendai. When they came to their lord's grave, they 
took the head of Kotsuke no Suke, and having washed 
it clean in a Well hardby, laid it as an offering before 
the tomb. When they had done this they engaged the 
priests of the temple to come and read prayers 
while they burned incense. Then Kuranosuke, having 
given all the money he had with him to the Abbot, 
said, " When we forty-seven men shall have per- 
formed hara kiri I beg you to bury us decently. This 
is but a trifle that I have to offer, such as it is, let it be 
spent in masses for our souls. And the Abbot, marvel- 
ing at the faithful courage of the men, with tears in his 
eyes, pledged himself to fufil their wishes. ' ' The Su- 
preme Court sentenced the "Forty-seven Ronins" to 
hara kiri, and they all met their death nobly. 

We find incense burning before the grave of the leader 
of the band, and our guide shows us the Well where they 
washed the head of their foe. 

The Imperial Palace at Tokyo, which occupies a 
commanding position on a hill near the center of the 
city, is enclosed in double walls and surrounded by a 
fine, broad moat. Having no special introduction to 
His Highness we are not permitted to even view the 
Imperial Garden, or Fukiage, which we are told is 
tastefully laid out in the pure native style. We know 
the government of the Japanese Empire was formerly 
an absolute monarchy. Mutsu-hito, the present 
Mikado, who lives in the palace, overthrew the power 
of the shoguns (military commanders) and daimios 
(feudal nobles) in 1869, when the Emperor, who is re- 
garded as the spiritual and temporal head of the Em- 
pire, was but seventeen years of age. Mutsu-hito is the 
one hundred and twenty-first ruler of an unbroken 
dynasty, which was founded in 660 B. C. 



The Flowery Kingdom 43 

A visit to our legation supplies us with cards of ad- 
mission to the Royal Palace, Kyoto, as well as an 
introduction to Mr. Okura, the owner of the finest pri- 
vate museum in Japan. Mr. Okura, who recently cele- 
brated his seventieth birthday, came to Tokyo at the 
age of eighteen years, a poor country lad. He has 
amassed large sums of money, much of which he ex- 
pends for philanthropic purposes. A visit to his 
home and museum, which is surrounded by the most 
charming creations of the gardener's art, proves to be 
a memorable treat. A dainty little Japanese woman, 
who speaks English, greets us at the entrance of the 
museum and acts as guide, showing us the rare speci- 
mens of idols, Chinese, Korean and Indian trophies, 
articles of gold lacquer, bronzes, porcelains, ivory and 
wood carvings, embroidered screens and kakemons, 
armor and even portions of the Shiba Temples, pro- 
cured during the Reformation. Madame Okura, learn- 
ing of our visit, invites us into their new private home, 
which is elegantly equipped in both native and Euro- 
pean style. With charming hospitality she orders us to 
be served with cha-o-cha (tea) and kasuteira (spongecake). 

In jinrikishas we visit Akasaka Park. Though 
rather late in the season we are able to view the 
wonderful chrysanthemum show held at Dangozaka. 
The display consists of chrysanthemums worked into 
all sorts of shapes — gods and men, castles, bridges, 
historical or mythological scenes, and tableaux illus- 
trating a well-known drama. All of these present the 
various periods and styles as recorded in Japanese 
literature. We never could have imagined such a sight. 

The ancient temple of Kwannon is one of the most 
popular and frequented temples in Japan. Being ele- 
vated about twelve feet from the ground, we ascend a 
flight of steps to reach the interior. Here we are not 
compelled to remove our shoes before mingling with the 



44 Glimpses Around the World 

vast throng who have gathered about the chief altar 
and side chapels. Before a small worm-eaten wooden 
idol stands a woman who, while offering her prayer, is 
rubbing her hand across the forehead of the image. 
Our guide tells us this woman must be suffering from a 
headache, which will be promptly relieved by the heal- 
ing virtues of this god; for any sufferer who rubs his 
hands on the portion of the image which agrees with 
the afflicted part of the worshiper's body is cured. 
A shrine outside the temple is hung with much long 
black hair, which we are told is placed here as a sacrifice 
by women offering prayers for a safe deliverance. 

We make an expedition to the shopping district 
and find the Ginza, the Broadway of Tokyo. In the 
Nihombashi district are several large shops which 
carry a good-sized assortment of articles for the use of 
Europeans, chiefly embroideries. At the entrance of 
the shop of Mizushima we pause while a coolie adjusts 
felt shoes over our regular foot-gear. We have already 
learned that the shoes worn in the street must never 
tread upon the indoor mattings in Japan. We find 
artistically arranged refreshment rooms in connection 
with this enterprising concern, and, unlike our depart- 
ment stores, the tea-rooms here serve the refreshing 
beverage and dainty sweetmeats gratis to all cus- 
tomers. A visit to Naka-dori, a street well lined with 
quaint old shops, produces a serious reaction in our 
curio epidemic. 

We wander into a kwankoba, or native bazaar, 
where small booths of every kind of articles line the 
narrow passages. The salesmen speak no English, but 
knowing we belong to the regiment of European sight- 
seers, they are all courteous. We pass up one aisle and 
down through the other, in serpentine fashion, for we 
must pass through every aisle before we can reach the 
exit. Quite a business scheme to entice shoppers into 



The Flowery Kingdom 45 

buying articles on display. We have learned some of 
the numerals by sound and sight, and are now able to 
interpret an occasional price ticket. 

1 "^ ichi 6 -J- roku 

2 ^ ni 7 ^ shichi 



san 



H - , A 



/ \_ hachi 



ku 



go IO ^ ju 

The electric trams which form a network about the 
city are patronized mostly by the coolie class, but we 
are desirous of trying each new T experience, and so ride 
to Kudan Hill for five sen (two and one-half cents), 
including a nordeki (transfer) on the crowded trolley. 

An interesting trophy of the late Russian-Japanese 
war is a huge iron water tank which was punctured by 
the Japanese guns and captured during the siege at 
Port Arthur. It has been placed upon a high brick 
foundation, which serves as a pedestal. Shokousha, 
or spirit-invoking shrine, erected in 1869, we recognize 
to be of pure Shinto architecture. The enormous 
bronze torii was manufactured in Osaka. Near here 
the curious ceremonies of walking over fire, and the 
ordeal of boiling water are held in the spring and 
autumn of each year. 

Ueno Park next claims our attention. We pass 
through the beautiful Triumphant Arch recently com- 
pleted, and along the celebrated avenue of cherry 
trees, which, during the blooming period in April, must 
present a most beautiful sight. A young man with a 
bundle of books under his arm, dressed in a dark-colored 



46 



Glimpses Around the World 



kimono, no hat shading his intellectual face, asks us, in 
broken English, if he may serve us as guide. He is a 
student in the Imperial University, and would like the 
opportunity of speaking English with us. Someone has 
said, " Japan has just reached her ebullient sophomore 
year in the world university. ' ' Though she has bor- 




Coming Generation of Mothers. 



rowed the golden eggs from the Caucasians, has Japan 
the intellectual goose to go on laying new eggs? 

On our way to the extensive museum we meet quite a 
representation of the coming generation of mothers, 
who are enjoying an airing with their teacher. The 
girls wear pleated skirts over their kimonos. Wine 
color seems to be the prevailing shade of this uniform. 

We return to the Imperial Hotel just in time to wit- 



The Flowery Kingdom 47 

ness the arrival of the Crown Prince and Princess of 
Korea with their retinue of sixty attendants. 

A short trip by steam train and we are again in 
Yokohama. The evening being pleasant our party 
engages jinrikishas, and we ride through what is known 
as Theater Street. Countless Japanese lanterns shed 
their radiance about the animated throngs at theaters 
and tea-houses, but the absence of music is conspicuous. 

A Pacific Mail steamer of 18,000 tons is lying in 
Yokohama harbor, and we engage first-class passage 
on it to Kobe. The steamship Korea furnishes us 
comfortable accommodations, during the calm twenty- 
hours' trip. Kobe's harbor is good, affording safe 
anchorage for vessels of almost any size. We go 
ashore on the Pacific Mail Company's launch, for the 
city stretches some three miles along a strip of land 
between attractive hills and the water. 

We walk along the Bund, and find the entire For- 
eign Quarter well laid out with broad, clean, well- 
lighted streets. Since 1868, when the foreign settle- 
ment was founded, Kobe has become the favorite port 
of Japan. We visit the extensive native business dis- 
trict. Down the street, men are carrying huge branches 
of trees ; as they near we see more men with lanterns, 
following are quantities of fresh fruit and vegetables 
arranged in gaily decorated four-wheeled carts, and 
drawn by coolies wearing straw hats. Cages of beauti- 
ful doves and elaborate floral designs pass; what can 
this be? No one about speaks English, but one old 
shop-keeper seems to surmise our question and answers 
by means of pantomime, for he closes his eyes and lays 
his head upon his hand. We are successful in our 
guess — funeral cortege. Next pass elaborately-robed 
priests, more lanterns, then two small boys in white 
robes, carrying rice in a sort of golden goblet. Then 
come twelve men, on whose shoulders rests an oblong 



48 Glimpses Around the World 

wooden pagoda draped in white silk, which serves as 
hearse. Several women mourners entirely enveloped in 
white robes follow in open jinrikishas . Behind them 
we see many European men walking to the cemetery to 
pay their tribute to the deceased, who was a prominent 
merchant of Kobe. Perhaps it would be beneficial to 
follow the example of these Mongolians in the use of 
white, which suggests purity and hope, rather than the 
dismal, unsanitary black materials resorted to by the 
majority of Europeans, as a means of displaying be- 
reavement. We are told that after the body of the 
deceased has been cremated, the eatables carried in the 
procession are presented to the priests. 

We visit the old Shinto temple of Ikuta situated in a 
grove of huge cryptomeria and camphor trees. A 
Japanese Minerva is the patron saint, for the goddess 
is supposed to have taught the use of the loom and in- 
troduced clothing. There is a large bronze Buddha 
in the temple at the nearby old town of Hyogo, but, 
compared with the Daibutsu at Kamakura, it is of 
minor interest. 

Pictorial art, as understood in Europe, can hardly be 
said to have any existence in Japan. Most of their 
decorative designs consist of natural objects treated in a 
conventional way. This conventionalism is so free and 
perfect in its allurements that Nature seems to suggest 
both the motive and the treatment. Though perhaps 
the flowers are not botanically perfect they show a 
truth to Nature, and minute observation on the part 
of the artist who has patiently studied every leaf and 
blade of grass. We are apt to complain that the 
Japanese artists treat every object flatly. It is true 
their creations lack linear perspective, but these brush 
workers excel in one of the most difficult triumphs of 
art, that of conveying an idea of motion, as in the swift 
flight of birds and swimming fishes. 



The Flowery Kingdom 49 

A two-hours' trip north by steam train, through a 
richly cultivated country, brings us to the ancient city 
of Kyoto, the most typically Japanese metropolis in 
Nippon. Yes, "metropolis" in every sense, for 
Kyoto is the Chinese term for metropolis, and 
Miyako, the name of the hotel at which we find com- 
fortable accommodations, is synonymous in Japanese. 
Of course we remember that prior to the Revolution- 
in 1868, which abolished the feudal system, or the 
deposition of the Shoguns, which made the Mikado the 
head of the government, Kyoto was the residence of the 
Emperor and his court. Kyoto is nearly surrounded 
by high hills. On one height we find ourselves basking 
in the glorious sunshine, as we roam about the artistic- 
ally-arranged gardens of the Miyako Hotel. We gain 
a charming view of the city below, which is watered by 
two rivers. 

Having obtained a card of admission from our 
Legation at Tokyo, we make our way to the Palace, or 
Gosho, surrounded by spacious groves. We leave 
our jinrikishas and enter by the ' ' Gate of the August 
Kitchen." An attendant ushers us into an ante- 
chamber formerly used as a waiting-room for daimios, 
where we are requested to register in the " Guest Book, " 
and adjust our felt over-shoes. We are interested in 
seeing the throne, draped in silk curtains, for, unlike the 
usual custom of the natives, the Mikado seemingly sat 
on a chair. There are stools at either side, which were 
intended for the Imperial Insignia, the sword and the 
jewel, while a flight of eighteen steps leads to the court 
below. We pass from one suite to another viewing the 
mural paintings of several schools. We are especially 
interested in the scenes representing the ancient Jap- 
anese court, done in the Tosa style. There are wonder- 
ful wild geese by Renzan, and chrysanthemums, by 
Okamoto Sukehiko. Creative frescos are about the 



50 Glimpses Around the World 

only remaining decoration of this now deserted regal 
home. The Imperial crest, of sixteen petaled chry- 
santhemums, is everywhere in evidence. 

Our patient coolies are waiting at the entrance, and a 
short ride in jinrikishas conveys us to the Nijo Castle, 
built by Iyeyasu, and later used as one of the summer 
palaces. 

Externally this castle suggests a Japanese fortress. 
We enter at the side of the huge metal gate. Beyond 
rises a second door of gorgeous gold and colors, de- 
corated with carved peonies. We are again invited to 
place our signatures in the "Registration," and then 
proceed to the spacious palace proper, which presents 
an " aspect of bold grandeur, power and richness 
rarely seen in a country whose art, generally speaking, 
restricts itself to the small and delicate. ' ' The suites 
are divided by elaborately decorated screens done by 
artists of the Kano school. We are puzzled upon 
examining one open work screen, for though it appears 
to be alike on both sides, in one room the design is 
peonies, and on the opposite are strutting peacocks. 
Only since our arrival in Japan are we able to appre- 
ciate the unconscious grace and spontaneity of Nip- 
ponese art. 

The nearby Katsura summer palace looks like any 
ordinary Japanese house. Here we find an example 
of what is recognized to be the best style of Japanese 
landscape gardening. 

On our way to the Shinto temple of Inari, we pass 
through narrow streets filled with rosy-cheeked chil- 
dren in whose wadded colored kimonos babes are 
neatly tucked. 

A couple of unique weather-beaten looking characters 
are standing in the roadway; their clothing is a mass 
of rags and tatters, and huge straw hats partially cover 
their faces. Their bare legs and arms are besmeared 



The Flowery Kingdom 51 

with ashes, and each is playing on a little bamboo wind 
instrument. Our guide tells us they are professional 
beggars. 

The massive red torii down the road shows the en- 
trance to the popular Shinto Temple of Inari. Legend 
records that here was seen a Deity in the form of an 
old man carrying a sheaf of rice upon his back. Inari 
nieans rice man. 

We visit the temple of the Thirty-three Images of 
Kwannon, for, as the name implies, the huge edifice is 
filled with as many effigies of the Goddess of Mercy. 
Though they are all supposed to represent the same 
divine personage, the several artists' conceptions vary. 
According to tradition, the ex-Mikado, Go-Shirakawa, 
was troubled with severe headaches which all of the 
usual remedies failed to cure. He was directed by the 
gods to apply to a certain celebrated Indian physician 
who resided near the site of this temple. The Mikado 
became absorbed in prayer, and at midnight a monk of 
noble mien appeared and informed His Majesty that 
during his last incarnation he had been a pious monk, 
who, according to his merits, had been promoted to his 
present life as Mikado; that his former skull was lying 
at the bottom of a nearby river still undissolved, and 
that out of it grew a willow tree which shook whenever 
the wind blew, thereby causing the emperor's head to 
ache. After searching, the Mikado found his former 
skull and had it enclosed in the head of the principal 
Kwannon, which now graces this temple. We pass 
through several old shrines hung with rare kakemonos, 
and walking along an avenue lined with huge camphor 
trees we again renew our seats in the jinrikishas . 

Like all travelers in Japan, we are familiar with the 
term geisha and are desirous of visiting the Nyo- 
koba, or school where the dancing girls are taught their 
famed accomplishments. Our guide arranges a visit, 



5 2 



Glimpses Around the World 



and slipping on cumbersome felt overshoes we are per- 
mitted to enter the several class rooms which are parti- 
tioned with glazed rice-paper sliding walls. We find 
some half a hundred brilliant ly-hued damsels, varying 
in age from six to twenty years. 

They are busily engaged in perfecting their studies 
in the art of dancing, singing and instrumental music, 
tea ceremonies, floral arrangements and the more prac- 




Geisha Girls. 

tical sewing. Not only are the costly silk kimonos and 
beautiful sashes or obi worn by the girls veritable 
rainbows, but the complexion of these yellow- skinned 
budding beauties, by aid of much paint and powder, 
is transformed to lily white and blushing rose red. 
On a padded matting in one room sits an elderly 
woman ; before her is a low desk. She holds a fan which 
takes the place of a baton in her hand, with which she is 
directing the clever maneuvers of two dancing students, 



The Flowery Kingdom 53 

who are performing on the raised platform before her. 
Each dancer stands in her tabi, or socks made of white 
cotton flannel, with a separate division for the great 
toe, like our mitten. The performer holds a fan in her 
hand. Acording to certain deft blended movements of 
the body, this fan is suddenly opened or shut. 

In an adjoining compartment squats another in- 
structor, playing a samisen, which resembles our 
guitar. This so-called music accompanies the gutteral, 
sluggish, singing tones she is producing. Her pupil, 
who squats on a cushion in front of her, is imitating her 
every tone and gesture, for according to this method 
of teaching no text-books are required. We are told 
that six years of study completes the course. We 
know the celebrated geishas receive very large fees, 
and are as great favorites with the people, as are our 
distinguished dramatic artists. 

Many claim this fascinating city to be the choicest 
place in the Empire for buying souvenirs. From the 
appearance of the shops which line the busy thorough- 
fares we doubt this assertion, but after penetrating to 
trie interior, and being escorted up narrow, rickety 
stairways to the displaying departments, we are in- 
clined to agree with the statement. Silks, embroi- 
deries, cut velvets, cloisonne, bronze, damascene and 
porcelain wares are the chief industries. 

Damascene ware is inlaid gold or silver on iron and is 
usually made into attractive belt buckles, card and 
cigarette cases, bracelets and buttons. 

Perhaps the pottery interests us most, when we learn 
that the first great master of Japanese ceramic art, 
Kato Shirozaemon, set up his kiln at Seto, about the 
year 1230, after his return from six-years' study in 
China. Seto has become the headquarters of the manu- 
facture of dainty little jars and utensils for the 
tea ceremonies, so that the word Seto-mono, or Seto 



54 Glimpses Around the World 

things, is now the Japanese term for all pottery and 
porcelain, just as we use the word china. 

To visit the Kinkozan potteries at Awata is a six- 
mile excursion by jinrikisha. Here we have an oppor- 
tunity of seeing the whole process of construction, 
from the kneading of the clay to the painting in gold 
and colors and the firing of the completed pieces. We 
take pleasure in learning of the many kinds of ceramics 
created in and about Kyoto, especially the crackled 
ware known as Satsuma. " The ignorance of European 
dealers and the want of accuracy on the part of the 
traders in Japan have done much to confuse the 
popular mind in the west, relative to the ceramic pro- 
ductions of the country, and especially so with regards 
to Satsuma faience. Large quantities of modern 
Kyoto ware, made by a well-known living potter and 
bearing his impressed mark, are shipped to this coun- 
try as Satsuma and sold as Satsuma. The Japanese 
dealers in Japan, knowing that the productions of the 
Satsuma potteries are highly esteemed in the Occident, 
and that the generality of buyers are but little skilled 
in the subject, forward inferior ware, made to order and 
otherwise easily procured, under the name of Satsuma. 
The modern Kyoto ware, easily distinguished from the 
genuine by critics, is a full buff tint, light and porous 
in its body and covered with a bright crackled glassy 
varnish. The genuine ware is of a very light tint rang- 
ing between grayish- white and vellum. The pate is 
generally hard and close in texture so much so it may 
be termed a semi-porcelain. The clay employed is of a 
very refractory nature and capable under strong heat of 
resisting fusion. The broken crackled surface pre- 
ferred by the Japs, is superior as a recipient for colored 
decoration." 

A ramble through the congested native quarter 
furnishes the most typical pictures of people and things 



The Flowery Kingdom 55 

pertaining to Japan, that we have been permitted to 
view during our sojourn in the Flowery Kingdom. 

Retracing our way to the sea, we pass through the 
enterprising city of Osaka, the seat of the Imperial 
Mint. Lack of time prevents us from visiting this, 
as well as the once capitol city of Nara. We find our- 
selves again on the Bund at Kobe ready to take passage 
on one of the Toyo Kisen Kisha liners. 

Seeing the two smoke-stacks of the steamship 
America Maru, we feel acquainted, for she is a sister to 
the steamship Hongkong Maru, on which we crossed 
the waters of the mighty Pacific. 

We are en route to Nagasaki, via the far-famed and 
incomparably lovely Inland Sea. From point to point 
where it communicates with the open water, it is said 
to be about two hundred and forty miles in length, 
varying in navigable width from forty miles to two 
or three hundred yards. Night covers the beauty of 
the early part of our voyage, during which time we pass 
through the narrow gateway, and after a short stretch 
in the open ocean, again steam close to shore. What 
an enchanting sight meets our gaze as we peer through 
our port-holes the following morning. We hastily 
swallow our breakfast and climb to promenade deck. 
Wooded hills and fair fields on all sides seem so near 
we feel we can almost speak with the natives whom we 
watch at work on the shore. The most accurate maps 
we have ever seen have given us little idea of this 
attractive archipelago of islands, rocks and shoals 
through which we are passing. We wonder how they 
were ever counted, for according to Japanese figures 
there are several thousand islands. We fairly hold our 
breath, we are so intent watching the skilled efforts of 
our pilot as we safely pass through the canal, which is 
barely wide enough for two ships to pass abreast. 
Quaint sails and various sized vessels add picturesque- 



56 Glimpses Around the World 

ness to this thirty hours of magnificent panorama. It 
is Sunday morning, cloud and mist shroud one of the 
prettiest harbors in the Far East, for the port of Naga- 
saki is a narrow inlet about three miles long, indented 
with numerous bays and surrounded by sheltered, 
wooded hills. Our steamer is anchored for a day of coal- 
ing, and though the weather is disagreeable we prepare to 
go ashore. This is the last Japanese city we shall visit. 

Having frequented so many temples during the past 
days of sight-seeing, we feel no pang of atheism as we 
follow the custom of the natives by spending our time 
in and about the attractive shops of tortoise-shell, 
ivory and embroidery creations. We are told Naga- 
saki has the reputation of being one of the most exten- 
sive fish markets in the world. 

Late afternoon finds us again on the upper deck of 
our vessel, watching the unique process of coaling. 
Numbers of flat boats loaded with the black fuel are 
gathered close to the sides of our ship. Temporary 
steps have been constructed reaching from the flat 
boats to the lower deck of our steamer. On these steps 
the native coolie men and women, who stand barefoot, 
are passing straw baskets each containing about a 
bushel of coal. They are passed with such amazing 
rapidity that we almost imagine these baskets are flying 
up. One thousand two hundred and fifty tons are 
coaled thus during the ten hours we lie in the harbor. 
Sea and sky grow dark, presently the stars come out, 
the small junks and sampans disappear, our steamer 
raises anchor and we bid the Flowery Kingdom, the 
Globe Trotter's Paradise, a fond sayonara. 

We have inhaled the artistic atmosphere, feasted on 
glorious sunsets, with ever-increasing interest have 
visited the temples, and reveled in the life and customs 
of the quaint Nipponese, — -memories of which we shall 
long cherish. 



CHAPTER IV 

The Most Recently Acquired Jewel in 
Uncle Sam's Possessions 

WE have turned our course due south and find 
the air growing warmer, though this is Christ- 
mas Eve. " Glory to God in the highest and 
on earth peace, good will toward men. ' ' 

Instead of snow and ice our Yule morning dawns on 
summer seas. The tropical sunshine peeps into our 
state-room.. Nature greets us with smiles and. we. 
know, though far from home and friends, we shall spend 
a Merry Christmas, a day of good cheer and feasting. 
In the dining salon, a large tree has been beautifully 
decorated, and during dinner a tinkling of sleigh bells 
announces Santa Claus, who arrives with a pack of 
presents, something for each passenger. A dance on 
deck is a fitting climax of our day's celebration. We 
could not have hoped to fare better. 

Geographically the Philippine Archipelago is said to 
consist of from six hundred to twelve hundred islands, 
but the majority are quite valueless and practically 
uninhabited. The Island of Luzon is the largest and 
most important of the group and contains the seat of 
government. 

During the evening of December twenty-sixth, the 
distant lights of the city of Manila, are sighted. By 
dawn, though nearly ten thousand miles from home, we 
prepare to iand on American possessions. 

A gong summons us to the dining salon for an early 
breakfast, and inspection by one of Uncle Sam's doctors 

(57) 



58 



Glimpses Around the World 



in khaki, who has come aboard from the pilot's launch. 
Several American officers and soldiers, handsome in 
their immaculate white uniforms, have also come 
aboard to greet friends from home. Our steamer has 
brought a goodly number of young men and women 
in government employ who are to be stationed on the 
islands. Some seventeen richly-clothed native men 




Steamship America Maru in Manila Harbor. 



and women come to meet Senor Legardo, one of the 
Commissioners of the Islands, who is just returning 
from Washington, D. C. 

We are told that when a Filipino gentleman takes 
the hymeneal vow, he, so to speak, marries his wife's 
entire family. Now, though Senora Legardo is dead, 
this man, her surviving husband, supports every mem- 



Uncle Sam's Possessions 59 

ber of her family. We notice each person in the party- 
kisses the Commissioner three times, once on each 
cheek and then on the mouth. A native brass band 
is aboard the launch which is to conduct the honorable 
Senor Legardo ashore. We are enthused with patriot- 
ism as we listen to the excellent rendition of the Star 
Spangled Banner, for these Filipinos are distinctly 
musical. 

We go ashore on the steamship's launch. Again 
readable signs in English replace the curious Japanese 
characters. Though most of the buildings are of 
quaint Spanish architecture, we feel quite at home, 
especially as we make our way on clean sidewalks, 
which we now consider a luxury, to the principal busi- 
ness street, Escolta. At Clarke's we refresh ourselves 
with American ice-cream soda, while we drink the 
' following toast offered by one of our party : 

Here's to the union of lakes, and the union of lands, 

The union of hearts none can sever ; 
The union of seas and the union of hands, 

And the flag of our Union forever. 

The street life of this city of two hundred and twenty 
thousand inhabitants presents a series of curious, 
changing scenes. We find the typical Filipino is of 
small stature, slender frame, brownish-yellow skin, 
high cheek bones, prominent nostrils, narrow eyes, 
large mouth, short round chin, and a quantity of 
smooth, straight black hair. The great majority of 
business men wear white duck suits. 

Here a water buffalo or a carabao, which is the 
draught horse of the Islands, is slowly making its way 
to the wharf hauling bales of hemp. Manila hemp, the 
most valuable cordage fiber in the world, has long been 
recognized as the leading economic product of the 
Philippine Islands. Though Manila has not been 
labeled, ticketed, bill-posted and guide-booked as has 



6o 



Glimpses Around the World 



Japan, we find the "Walled city," on the southern 
bank of the Pasig River, contains many objects of his r 
torical and antiquarian interest. There are enough old 
churches and convents to scatter over an entire conti- 
nent. Within the eight gates of the city proper we find 
the post and telegraph offices, government buildings, 
the custom-house, convents, colleges and observatory, 




Carabao Hauling Bales of Hemp. 



beside many churches and shops. Perhaps the first 
place which attracts our attention is the historical 
Fort Santiago. The first crude fortification of stakes 
stood here in 1570, and this was the center and strong- 
hold of Spanish power in the Orient until 1898. Now 
we find the old arsenal is used as the home of the mili- 
tary officers. 



Uncle Sam's Possessions 61 

A splendid electric-car system forms a convenient 
network about the city and vicinity, and makes trans- 
portation an economical pleasure. First-class travel 
costs twelve pesos, about six cents, and second-class, 
mostly patronized by the natives, costs ten pesos, or 
five cents. We find the heat of the vertical sun oppres- 
sive and decide that a ride on the Santa Ana trolley 
will be refreshing. Six miles from Manila is our destina- 
tion; Fort William McKinley, perhaps the largest 
garrison under the flag of the United States, is attrac- 
tively situated, and suggests to our minds a large 
college campus with the usual residences for faculty 
and students. En route we catch a glimpse of Filipino 
home life, which has a unique and individual attract- 
iveness. 

The native houses, built on a sort of stilts so as to 
withstand earthquake shocks, are made of a bamboo 
framework covered over with dried nipa. Window 
glass is rarely used, but instead little squares of trans- 
lucent oyster shells soften the glare of the tropical sun. 
We judge the houses are well adapted to the climate, 
and are both cheap and strong. Seated here and there 
among towering palm trees the simple construction of 
these cottages adds picturesqueness to the scene. 

House rents are very low, and servant hire is so 
cheap one can have a retinue at the cost of a single 
housemaid at home. We find the Filipino woman, un- 
like her Oriental sisters, free of foot, face and waist; 
she stands well, and looks straight ahead without fear 
or favor. Though the climate is tropical and recog- 
nized to be healthful, children do not seem to grow in 
such numbers as we found them in Japan. 

The carromato, or two-wheeled native conveyance, 
drawn by the carabao, is rapidly being replaced by the 
small Filipino horse and modern European carriage. 
Though the several European stores in the new city 



62 



Glimpses Around the World 



outside the walls display attractive goods, we pass 
them by and make our way through the extensive 
Chinese settlement to San Fernando, a long thorough- 
fare lined on either side with shops. Native women 
who speak Spanish, and some English, conduct the 
business. Each stands, or more often sits, in the center 
of her stall surrounded by her wares, the pina and jusi 




Street Scene in Manila 



fabrics, which are made from pineapple, banana and 
hemp, and done into embroidered or woven designs of 
usually twenty-four yard lengths. Narrow in width, 
this amount of material is required for a single costume, 
which consists of a full, long trailing skirt, a short bodice 
decollete, called camisa, with huge purled elbow sleeves 
and a sort of three-cornered fichu about the back and 



Uncle Sam's Possessions 63 

shoulders, which is fastened at the front. Stockings 
are rarely worn, and the slippers, which have no heels, 
are held in place by merely a strip of leather across 
the toes. Brilliant jewels bedeck the ears and fingers 
of the rich, while the coolie class of women wear short 
skirts and the, conventional bodice. They seldom wear 
a covering for their straight black hair. We cannot 
call them beautiful women ; and according to our idea 
their habitual use of cigarettes does not lend charm to 
their manners.' Though many of the huts we pass are 
reeking in filth, the natives, as a whole, are exceptionally 
cleanly about their persons. We enjoy visiting the 
Germinal Cigar Factory, which since 1898 has been 
capitalized, managed and operated by industrious 
Filipinos. 

•The heat of the day is over, all Manila is making its 
way to the Luneta. Europeans and natives, in car- 
riages of every description, are enjoying life in the 
park, while listening to the Constabulary Band, which 
plays every evening from five to seven o'clock. The 
Luneta was once the esplanade of the Spanish aristoc- 
racy, and we are told, in the old days, Manila rivaled 
all Oriental cities for brilliancy and fashionable luxury. 

We accept a cordial invitation to dine at eight o'clock, 
the usual dinner hour, with friends who are here in 
government employ. We find the houses occupied 
by the Americans, comfortably equipped and homelike. 
The living rooms are all on the second story, while the 
ground floor is used as the servants' quarters and store- 
room. 

Our steamer is lying in the harbor, and on it we find 
better sleeping accommodations than the land hotels 
can offer. To-morrow the steamship America Maru is 
scheduled to depart for Hongkong. 

At daybreak we again go ashore. It is Jose Rizal 
Day, the greatest native holiday in the year, and we 



64 



Glimpses Around the World 



must see at least the beginning of the day's celebration 
before leaving the Island of Luzon. Crowds of dusky 
natives in holiday attire rill the streets, even at this early 
hour in the morning. A grand stand decorated with our 
glorious national colors has been erected in the Luneta. 
Sounds of patriotic music fill the balmy air, flags 
and banners are floating, all business is suspended, 



•■ 




Grand Stand in the Luneta. 

floral decorated floats pass to join in the parade which 
is forming, and all to celebrate the anniversary of the 
tragic death of the Filipino hero — Rizal. 

We have left the festivities behind, our steamer has 
again raised anchor, and with bow to the north we are 
tossing on the China Sea. Nothing seems to interest 
us, not even the gong which announces the genial 
steward's latest achievement, for our steamer is pitch- 
ing and rolling in an uncomfortable fashion. 



CHAPTER V 

The Core of Conservatism 

In the administration of government why resort to capital punish- 
ment? Covet what is good, and the people will be good. The virtue 
of the noble-minded man is as the wind, and that of inferior men as grass ; 
the grass must bend when the wind blows upon it. — Confucius' Reply 
io Ki K'ang on the Direction of Public Affairs. 

THANKS to Neptune, we are allowed to enter the 
lovely harbor of Hongkong on a bright and 
beautiful New Year's morning. We are sur- 
prised to find the outlying islands and the coast so 
attractive. Our ship drops anchor near Victoria, better 
known as Hongkong, the third largest seaport in the 
world, and the busiest harbor in the eastern seas. When 
we remember that this former pirate island of Hong- 
kong, just off the mainland of China, was ceded to Great 
Britain in 1841, we marvel at the stride of progression; 
finding now a splendid cosmopolitan city with about a 
quarter of a million people. Charming villas dot the 
terraced slope of the famous Victoria Peak, whose crown 
is still enveloped in the morning mist. Numerous 
sampans surround our steamer bringing hotel runners, 
who, scampering up on deck, solicit our patronage. A 
Chinaman, whose cap is marked "Hongkong Hotel," 
cares for our baggage. We go ashore on the little 
steam launch. No custom-house officials molest us, 
for this is a free port. A few minutes' walk across the 
spacious square, in the center of which is a splendid 
statue of Her Majesty Queen Victoria, and we reach 
the hotel, which seems to be headquarters for American 
travelers. The charge for accommodations at this 

s (65) 



66 Glimpses Around the World 

hostelry about equal that paid at The "Grand" in 
Yokohama, but we find it inferior in quality. The 
clerk reckons in Mexican dollars, which are valued 
at about half of American gold. The English shops are 
all closed in celebration of the New Year, but we make 
our way through Queen's Road, the principal thorough- 
fare, with its arcaded sidewalks, to the Chinese quarter. 
Unlike the Celestials of " Fragrant Springs," which we 
learn is the translation of the name Hongkong, we do 
not experience a superstitious dread of spending money 
on the first days of the first month, but seek the native 
shops where exquisite ivories, precious filigrees and 
costly embroideries are on display. Though we try to 
enforce our most stringent rules of practical economy, 
we find ourselves unconsciously deviating in the pur- 
chase of rare souvenirs, which seem remarkably cheap. 
The big Sikh policemen from India are conspicuous 
in their khaki suits ; their long black beards, braided 
and wound about their faces, are tucked under their red 
turbans. By the aid of the Funicular, or cable car, 
we ascend to the Peak Hotel. The heat of the noon- 
day sun makes the air humid. We refresh ourselves 
with tiffin and then engage sedan-chairs and three 
coolies apiece, so as to continue the ascent. These 
sedan-chairs are made of bamboo with cane seats and 
canvas coverings. Each chair rests on two long 
bamboo poles, which the Chinese coolies, two in front 
and one behind, carry on their naked shoulders. Like 
the jinrikisha, the sedan-chair accommodates but one 
person, and traveling single file seems to be the fashion. 
The short springy steps of the coolies make us feel 
unsteady. On and up we go along wide winding stone 
paths. Suddenly the coolies set our chairs down in the 
road and pantomime that they can go no farther. If we 
wish to reach the apex we must climb on foot. The 
burning sun is exhausting, but to the very top we go. 



The Core of Conservatism 



67 



From the Signal, with the aid of a telescope, we look 
down and over the city, with its lovely harbor which is 
now well filled with steamers, sampans and several 
men-of-war. Just across is Kowloon, which recently 
came into the possession of the British. We remember 
reading, not long ago, of the many lives lost during 
the terrible typhoon which occurred near here. 








Victoria Peak. 



Our sturdy bare-backed coolies are waiting yonder. 
We resume our position in the sedan-chairs and return 
to the cable-car station. According to tariff prices we 
pay that which equals about thirty cents American 
money per hour for each sedan-chair and three coolies. 
The many mansions and the beautiful gardens along the 
terraced peak are the homes of the English residents. 



68 Glimpses Around the World 

It has been said, " to see the city of Canton is a red- 
letter page in life 's diary. ' ' We engage passage on one 
of the Messageries Maritimes, French Liner, for the 
ninety-five mile water trip to the Paris of China. At 
about nine o'clock in the evening 'rikshaws convey us 
to the wharf, where we embark on the steamship Chas. 
Hardouin. The lower decks are swarming with very 
dirty third-class Chinese passengers. A higher class 
of natives occupy the forward deck. We are told these 
people furnish their own bedding and opium. 

An English-speaking steward leads us to our state- 
rooms, which, though very simply equipped, seem 
sanitary. When our steamer raises anchor and we 
look about the salon, we find that besides two German 
men, we are the only non-Mongolian passengers aboard. 
The darkness outside, the opium-scented atmosphere, 
and the riotous sounding voices from the lower decks, 
recall to our minds the stories we have heard of the 
frightful experiences of earlier travelers. We have a 
shivering feeling up and down our backs when we 
think of the dreaded pirates who are still rife in these 
waters. Then we remember the strong iron gratings 
which we saw clamped over the gangways leading to 
our decks, our minds are relieved and we retire without 
another thought of impending dangers. 

Can we ever forget the scene which greets us at day- 
break? It seems as though the entire Canton River 
population of a quarter of a million men, women and 
children who are born, who live and die on these sam- 
pans, and larger boats, have gathered about our 
steamer. 

Shooting of firecrackers is the morning's devotional 
service. The Chinese claim that the explosion scares 
away the devils. We have engaged the services of a 
recommended guide, Ip Chun, at six Mexican dollars for 
the day, as we are told a guide is indispensable. 



The Core of Conservatism 



69 



Our appearance on deck is a business signal. Im- 
mediately the coolies enter into a competition of wild 
gestures and shouts. By attracting our attention they 




Life on a Sampan. 



hope to serve us as porters and boatmen, though in the 
majority of cases the women, rather than the men, 
manage the boats. 

A young coolie woman, on whose back a Chinese 
babe is tied, steers the sampan we engage to carry us 
ashore. The center of the craft, where we sit on straw- 
matting- covered seats, serves the family as the living 
and sleeping apartment, while at the rear end of this 
houseboat is a little earthenware stove around which 
some half a dozen small children are rollicking. We 
fear they will fall overboard. Ah! no, they are accus- 



7° 



Glimpses Around the World 



tomed to this life, and if by chance they should tumble 
over into the water the mother can easily fish them out 
again. 

We have landed in Shameen, the beautiful park, a 
mile and a quarter in circumference, which was ceded 
by the Chinese government to foreigners for the 




Chinese Houseboats. 

residence quarter, and is now the site of the foreign 
embassies and the Victoria Hotel. 

Scantily-clad coolies rush forward, and our interpret- 
ing guide tells us to choose our sedan-chairs, which 
are in waiting. Mr. Ip Chun seated in his elaborately- 
draped sedan-chair, carried by three coolies, leads our 
party. He is dressed in a long black robe with a 
small round black cap on his head. We notice a little 



The Core of Conservatism 71 

red knob on the top of his cap; if this knob were 
white it would be a sign that our guide was in deep 
mourning, while blue is worn after the first six months 
of the death of a member of the family. 

Seated on high, for the coolies raise the bamboo 
poles of our chairs to their shoulders, off we start 
following our guide single file. We cross the bridged 
canal, pass several emaciated-looking soldiers, and, 
leaving the serenity of Shameen, we enter, through the 
great iron gateway, into the labyrinthine walled city 
of Canton. We imagine we have stepped into Pluto's 
domain; noise, confusion, dim lights and foul smells. 
The streets measure from five to eight feet in width. 
The buildings on either side are tall, and built so closely 
together that only through an occasional slit in the 
canvas, which is suspended across the narrow thorough- 
fares, are we permitted to catch a welcome glimpse of 
blue sky that reassures us we are still inhabiting 
"this goodly frame, the earth." 

Here comes a mandarin, we recognize his draped 
coffin-like conveyance, though of course the goggled 
official is not visible. What shall we do? The coolies 
shout to the foot passengers who seem to vanish into 
nearby doorways, while the dignitary's chair just 
manages to squeeze past ours without a collision. 
Traffic is resumed, and we make our way through 
streets devoted to shoes of all colors and sizes. Some 
are so small we wonder what children can wear them, 
then we remember these are actually worn by the grown 
women, whose feet since babyhood have been cruelly 
strapped and bandaged. 

Embroidery, silk and the well-known Canton grass- 
linen are sold in the large and richly-equipped empo- 
riums. We are surpried to see the Chinese shopkeepers 
big and fat, quite unlike the washed-out, dried-up type 
of laundrymen we see at home. Their foreheads are 



7 2 



Glimpses Around the World 



closely shaven and their pigtails neatly braided. How 
is it possible to find such beautiful and artistic creations 
in the midst of this shadowy Hadesean city? 




Chinese Barber. 



The most exquisitely delicate ivory carvings, the 
daintiest gold and silver filigree and wonderfully- 
carved ebony are created in dingy bamboo huts. We 
visit the famous Kingfisher Feather Factory, where 
some half a dozen Chinamen, seated on stools, are 



The Core of Conservatism 73 

inlaying the daintiest bits of shaded feathers, like 
jewels, into rings, brooches and earrings; when com- 
pleted the work looks like enamel. A skilled work- 
man cannot devote more than three years, of from 
twelve to fifteen hours of work a day, without losing 
his eyesight. Costly brocaded satins and shimmering 
silks are created at the busily-worked hand-looms, 
which we visit. Through more twisted alleys we pass 
into the section devoted to jade, for every Chinese 
woman wears some bit of the lucky green stone, 
usually earrings and bracelets. The undemonstrative 
salesmen only whet our desires to buy more of the rare 
and costly articles, many of which are seldom seen in 
the Occident. 

Ah ! but we have come to see and not to buy, and 
again we find ourselves in the midst of the ceaseless 
procession of thousands of toiling creatures as our 
guide leads the way to the Temple of Five Hundred 
Genii. A glance down the long corridor suffices. There 
are actually five hundred carved wooden and gilt statues 
of Chinese gods grinning at the joss sticks, which are 
kept burning in this temple enclosure. Ip Chun calls 
our attention to a statue of Marco Polo, which has been 
placed near the high altar. We smile as we wonder 
whether this is a sign that China is actually beginning 
to awaken to western civilization by paying homage to 
the first European who penetrated this domain, or 
whether it is but an example of the always traditional 
conservatism of the Celestials, as a memorial of 
friendship which existed between an early emperor 
and this Venetian. Nearby stands the Temple of 
Confucius, dedicated to the good and wise philosopher 
to whom China owes an immeasurable debt. We are 
told that, even to the present day, her aspiring phil- 
osophers are but a facsimile of this beloved character 
who lived five hundred vears before Christ. Several 



74 



Glimpses Around the World 



ignorant, disgustingly filthy priests pursue us with 
insistent demands for offerings of money. The 
temples here seem to lack the artistic charm we 
recognized in things Japanese, We find few devotees, 
perhaps this is the result of one of their theological ideas, 
"Respect the gods, but keep them at a distance." 
Ascending into a gloomy looking tower we view the 




Halting Near the Five-Storied Pagoda, Canton. 



old water clock, from which all Canton reckons 
time. No dial, spring and tick, but three small tanks 
one above the other. Drop! drop! drop! the water 
passes into a tank below, which contains a mechanical 
metal ruler. This metallic indicator rises out of the 
water at the rate of an inch an hour. The pig-tailed, 
almond-eyed, yellow-skinned Cantonese stare at us 



The Core of Conservatism 75 

wherever we go, but as soon as we focus our camera 
they vanish. 

We ride to the Five-Storied Pagoda, and after 
bribing our coolies with kumshaw (tips) for chow 
(eatables) we succeed in capturing a snap shot. 

One coolie who speaks pigeon English says, "Chow, 
top side up, here." We climb to the fifth story of this 
Buddhistic temple and refresh ourselves with lunch. 
Tea is served without cream and sugar in dainty, 
handleless cups. There are little sweet cakes, and 
small bowls of rice from which we eat with long ebony 
chop-sticks. While partaking of the viands, which 
are not particularly palatable, we enjoy a splendid 
bird's-eye view of the walled city and the forts which are 
always prepared with loaded cannon. 

' Though in shopping we calculate money according 
to the Hongkong Mexican dollar, about fifty cents 
American, its value fluctuates through the various 
provinces of the kingdom. Each city of importance is 
supplied with its own money factories. We hear how 
one European made a tour through China, and after 
purchasing his transportation he possessed ten dollars. 
He traveled from north to south and in each city 
exchanged his money into the circulating currency. 
At the end of his tour his money was gone, though 
he had bought nothing. It was all consumed by the 
high rate of discount charged by the money changers. 

We pass through the surging crowds, into an open 
space where a quantity of pottery is drying in the sun. 
Following our guide a few steps on foot, we find our- 
selves at the execution grounds. We shrink away in 
horror; here is a human skull lying on the ground. 
Unlike poor Yorick's skull, "which hath lain i' the 
earth three and twenty years," we are told that less 
than three weeks ago fourteen pirates were executed 
on this spot. We are travelers who have come to see, 



7 6 



Glimpses Around the World 



and though not all sights are a pleasure we unfalter- 
ingly follow our guide to the foul prison. An ugly 
mob of frenzied humanity peers at us through the heavy 
iron bars. They are all criminals awaiting sentence. 
Again in our sedan-chairs, we pass a group of women ; 
the older members are scarcely able to toddle on their 




Chinese Woman and Child. 

tiny feet, but we are happy to see the coming generation 
in normal sized shoes. 

The coils of straight black glossy hair, which are 
plastered over their ears are arranged with gold and 
costly enameled ornaments. Black satin trousers, a 
flowing tunic and much jewelry, complete the costume 
of these aristocratic females. 

We know the wealthy Chinese deposit their dead in 
heavy, beautifully polished wooden coffins, which are 



The Core of Conservatism 77 

often purchased long before death occurs. A lovely 
walk through a flowery path, midst the first sunshine 
we have enjoyed to-day, leads us to what is known as 
"the city of the dead." Here we find a series of 
chapels in which the remains of aristocrats repose. 
For the sake of the departed souls, a tiny oil taper is 
kept burning over each coffin. 

The bodies repose here as long as the surviving 
members of the family pay the expense of the monthly 
rental fee, after which time, like the coolie class, the 
bodies are buried. 

Groups of dirty-looking school children follow us 
along the road. We peep into a Chinese theater, but 
all we can distinguish in the stuffy room is the noisy 
din of gongs and cymbals and the half-nude pig-tailed 
audience perched on the narrow uncomfortable look- 
ing benches. Again in the street we pass a red and 
gilt sedan-chair carried by gaily garbed coolies. The 
elaborately draped canopy chair designates this as a 
wedding conveyance. 

We have not seen a single beast of burden in the 
city, instead, toiling humanity on whose bare shoulders 
long poles balance baskets and buckets, carrying the 
heavy loads. Our eyes have never been busier than 
watching this ceaseless flow of traffic as we pass through 
the fish and vegetable alleys, rice, tea and ginger 
stalls, chop suey and opium dens with their streaming 
mass of humanity. In one stall we notice something 
which reminds us of a lump of isinglass ; it is one of the 
Chinese delicacies, a sea swallow's nest from which 
soup is made. Dried rats hanging by their tails are 
seen in nearly every delicatessen shop. 

It is sunset, again we pass through the massive iron 
gateway; we have left the stifling congestion behind. 
Once more in Shameen we make our way to the 
steamer, which will soon leave for Hongkong. Ip 



78 Glimpses Around the World 

Chun has served us well, and we are glad to add our 
words of commendation in his little note-book for the 
benefit of our successors. We have seen and smelt 
Canton. We doubt if time will ever erase the impres- 
sions of this day's experience. Now, if some good 
fairy would grant our wish, we should find ourselves 
in an open field hanging over a clothes-line with a 
strong breeze blowing upon us for a week. Such 
luxury is not our luck, but we content ourselves with 
a promenade on deck as our ship raises anchor. While 
the house tops of Canton are still visible we hear the 
sound of a cannon, which signals the closing of the 
gates of the walled city. No European lives within 
the strong, high enclosure, which for centuries has 
secluded the Cantonese from the outer world. China 
is still medieval. Daybreak finds us again in Hong- 
kong. Are we just awakening from a horrible night- 
mare? Perhaps, if time and weather permitted us to 
penetrate northern China and visit Pekin, the home of 
the rulers of one-third of the inhabitants of the earth, 
we should carry away a more pleasing impression. In 
the enterprising English island city we procure passage 
on the steamship Namur, a newly-acquired member 
of the large family of Pacific and Oriental steamships. 



CHAPTER VI 

The Golden Peninsula 

WE are bound for the Malay Peninsula, which 
we remember is shaped like a long- 
necked bottle, or an Indian club, bulging at 
the center and narrow at each end. Captain and 
officers aboard the steamship Namur are English, and 




Steamship Namur in the Harbor of Singapore. 

the crew bronze-skinned, red-turbaned, white-clothed 
Indians. 

(79) 



80 Glimpses Around the World 

Our course lies due south, over a wide stretch of 
bright blue water smiling skyward towards a radiant 
sun. Five days of ease and comfort aboard this mod- 
ernly equipped English liner means recuperation. 
To-morrow we must wake early in order not to let 
sweet sunny hours slip by in heedless sleep. 

At dawn of the sixth day aboard we sight the island 
and city of Singapore, the most southern point of Asia, 
the stopping place of nearly all ocean travel to and 
from the East. A bulletin in the dining salon informs 
us our steamer will coal at this port for forty-eight 
hours. 

In the thinnest of clothing, equipped with sunshades, 
we descend the gang-plank, eager to scent a new land 
and revel in a tropical experience. Merely in loin 
cloths, chocolate-colored, shining-skinned natives are 
running to and fro on the wharf. Here is a crude cart 
drawn by a pair of cream-colored, humped-back, 
reversed-horn cattle. We faintly remember having 
once met members of their family at Ringling Brothers' 
Menagerie. Their driver, like the other coolies we see 
about, is almost black, his head is closely shaven half 
way to the back, while straight glossy black hair hangs 
over the back of his neck. Lustrous black eyes and 
very white teeth are the most conspicuous part of his 
make-up. Passing through a thickly- wooded path we 
reach the street. Here is a row of tumble-down one- 
story buildings. A street-car track is the only visible 
suggestion of civilization. 

Can this be the principal thoroughfare of the capital 
and largest city of the Strait's Settlement? Perhaps 
if we walk a short distance we may meet someone who 
can speak English and direct us. Though still early 
forenoon the atmosphere is humid, the blazing sun 
streams down upon us, and we long for a single whiff 
of refreshing sea breeze. On we walk; troops of chil- 



The Golden Peninsula 



81 



dren clothed in their tight-fitting, dark-brown satin, 
birthday clothes, stare at us in utter amazement. 
Scantily-clad dusky women peer at us from open door- 
ways. Perhaps we are the first Europeans these 
Malays have ever seen. 

Seeing a trolley car a short distance ahead we quicken 
our pace, and, heedless of its destination, we mount and 




Malayan Cart and Oxen. 



seek shelter in the front seat, which is reserved for 
Europeans. There, in a white suit, sits a kindly-faced 
European — an Englishman. He graciously offers us 
assistance, and directs us to the business portion of the 
city, for, unconsciously, since leaving the wharf, we have 
walked in the wrong direction. Oh ! what can we do ? 
The conductor asks us for our car fare, we possess no 



82 Glimpses Around the World 

native currency, and the Chinese coins we offer are not 
acceptable. Again our new acquaintance, the kind 
Englishman, becomes the good Samaritan and offers 
to pay two annas apiece (five cents American money), 
which entitles us to transportation to the city proper. 
, We can remember when we were soothed to sleep by 
nurses ' fairy tales, how we would dream of a land where 
everything was bathed in sunshine, where children were 
not troubled about wearing clothes, but could play out 
of doors all day without dressing, where flowers, fruits 
and foliage grew without cultivation, and birds of rare 
plumage fluttered through the balmy air. Aye, the 
dreamland of our childhood is reality, and here we are 
in the picturesque city of Singapore, just off the main- 
land of the Malay Peninsula. The capital of the 
Straits Settlement lies only about two degrees north 
of that fascinating imaginary great circle of the earth's 
surface, the Equator. 

Our destination is the Hongkong- Shanghai Banking 
Corporation, a large stone structure, situated in the 
midst of the business district. As we pass into the 
banking-house we notice an old, scantily-clad, black 
man leaning on a bench. His eyes are closed and we 
judge he has fallen asleep. Look, a stout rope is 
attached to the great toe of his right foot, which is 
mechanically moving up and down, up and down. 
Poor old miserable soul, he is a punkha- puller, and 
all day long and part of the night, week after week, he 
continues his pulling for a monthly salary of about six 
rupees, two dollars American money. In the count- 
ing-house we see the punkhas, the Indian term for the 
wind producers, suspending from the ceiling. The 
long pieces of white cloth, about a yard wide, stretched 
on a frame, attached to ropes, wave slowly to and fro, 
keeping the air constantly in circulation. The punkhas 
are a comfort to all but the pullers who tug ceaselessly 



The Golden Peninsula 



83 



at the resisting ropes by which the native's power is 
transmitted. The affable banking-clerks accommodate 
us with silver rupees and nickel annas. We have 
learned that one rupee is equal to about thirty-three 
cents American money, and sixteen annas are equal to 
one rupee. The many arcaded buildings, which line 




Sikh Policeman in Singapore. 



the streets, shelter the sidewalks from the scorching 
sun and the frequent heavy showers of rain. 

As in Hongkong, we notice that England has chosen 
the trustworthy giant Sikhs from India as the police- 
men of Singapore. The heat seems so oppressive let 
us take a drive. Here is a gharry, the native con- 
veyance, open on all sides. It has a thick roof and if 
the sun penetrates we can draw the side slat screens 
for protection. This small two-seated carriage is 



84 Glimpses Around the World 

drawn by a wiry little pony, capable of traveling about 
eight miles an hour even now when the thermometer 
registers ninety-five degrees Fahrenheit. 

We call the attention of the Malay driver, robed in 
his gaily-colored loin-cloth and huge red turban, and ask 
him how much he will charge to drive to the Botanical 
Gardens and return. He answers by the aid of pan- 
tomime, eight rupees. We have already learned that 
these Orientals usually ask tourists like ourselves 
twice the normal price. We shake our heads in disgust 
and offer three rupees. After considerable bargaining 
we agree to pay four rupees for the driving tour and off 
we start. Have we ever experienced a more delightful 
drive than this one? The roads are excellent. We 
pass beautiful European bungalows embowered in the 
loveliest vegetation, then, in the swampy places, the 
native Malayan huts of bamboo with their thatched 
roofs. We are told they are built high on stilts, as a 
protection against the much-dreaded tigers and snakes 
which swim over from the mainland. Can poverty- 
stricken natives really suffer on this sunny, care-free 
island, where luscious fruits prove a tempting diet ? 

We have never before seen such a variety of tropical 
trees, shrubs, vines and flowers. Unassisted, Nature 
tends to run all to stretching banyan trees, nutmegs, 
and cinnamon groves or royal palms, breadfruit and 
bamboo, but the gardener insists that for Art's sake 
every member of the palm family shall here have a 
chance to reveal its glory. 

Here is a rare specimen, known as the "Traveler's 
Palm," a sort of Catharine-wheel of huge leaves, which, 
if we tapped the axle, would yield a pint of cool water. 
Oh! just imagine that huge Monkey Palm tree, on the 
side of which are growing masses of foliage known as 
"air plants." They often grow on the side of palm 
trees, thriving on the nourishment they absorb from 



The Golden Peninsula 



85 



the atmosphere of the tropics. Could we ever have 
realized that here we should find the giant bamboo 
trees, measuring ninety feet high and about one 
hundred yards in circumference ? Yonder is a curious 
specimen known as the "Trinity tree," for, as the name 




Traveler's Tree. 



implies, the trunk divides itself into three branches, 
and each branch divides and sub-divides into thirds 
up to the topmost twigs. 

Has a great upheavel torn the gigantic roots of this 
century old rubber tree from their subterranean 



86 



Glimpses Around the World 



passages ? The dusky attendant tells us that the coil- 
ing roots of rubber trees are always exposed above the 
ground. 

The attending superintendent seems intelligent, 
and takes special interest in showing us a bud of pro- 
digious size, which grows out of the roots. The plant 
has no leaves. It is called Rafflesia grandtflora, named 
after Sir Stamford Raffles. When in full bloom the 
flower measures one yard in diameter, its center holds 



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India Rubber Tree. 



one and one-half gallons of water, and its usual weight 
is about fifteen pounds. As we look at the rich, yellow- 
brown blossom flecked with purple, we wonder if, like 
Captain Gulliver, we have stepped into a realm where 
everything becomes amazingly large. 

Here are many spreading breadfruit trees. The 
fruit, which is perhaps the chief diet of the natives, 
tastes insipid to us. It grows in a large fleshy 
mass, about the size of a child's head, and Nature 



The Golden Peninsula 87 

has decorated its hard outer covering with hexagonal 
markings. We prefer to eat of the delicious mango- 
steen, also a native fruit, with a hard dark-brown 
outer covering, which measures about four inches in 
diameter. We are told that the luscious mangosteen, 
not being able to withstand transportation through 
the tropics, is the only fruit cultivated in an English 
possession of which Her Majesty, the late Queen 
Victoria, never tasted. 

We drive back to the center of this cosmopolitan 
city, which was founded in 18 19 by Sir Stamford 
Raffles as an English port. As we pass along through 
the thoroughfares we can hardly think of a people 
who are not represented in this motley throng : Afri- 
cans, Arabians, Armenians, Burmese, Chinese, Euro- 
peans, Hindus, Japanese, Javanese, Malays, Manila- 
men, Par sees, Persians, Siamese, Singhalese, Tamils 
and Turks. The city has an enormous commerce and 
we find the shops contain a vast collection of attractive 
Oriental goods. 

En route to the Raffles Hotel for refreshments we 
notice an old Malay coolie woman squatting under 
a palm tree. She is serving a handful of rice, the staple 
grain food of the tropics, on a piece of a banana leaf, 
to a Wikishaw coolie. 

Here, in a shady corner, several naked men have 
gathered around a common dish into which all the 
members are dipping their five-pronged natural forks. 
A young mother passes, on her hip straddles a babe. 
Several naked bronze mites are playing in the streets. 
They are adorned with tiny silver anklets and bracelets, 
and a thread-like cord around their waists, from which 
a shining key is suspended, completes their costume. 

Muscular, thick set men, whose shining skin is almost 
coal black, are at work cleaning and repairing the 
streets. Except for the scanty red loin cloths, and 



88 



Glimpses Around the World 



the forehead bandages, which keeps the perspiration 
from pouring down on their faces, they are nude. 

A group of Malay coolies drawing jinrikishas follow 
us from shop to shop as we enjoy a walk along High 
Street; they shout Wikshaw? 'rikshawf 

Can folk at home realize that these black and brown 





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Malayan Coolies. 

bodies, utterly unconscious of immodesty actually exist 
in this twentieth century? 

We hear how one of our party after much bargaining 
bought and paid for a camphor- wood chest, which he 
ordered the Chinese salesman to send aboard our 
steamer now lying at the wharf. The purchased box 
did not appear on board at the appointed time. 
Though the evening was advancing, our traveling 
companion went ashore, and accompanied by a police- 



The Golden Peninsula 



8 9 



man made his way to the shop. Of course the day's 
business was over, but the proprietor, living in the rear 
of his shop, reluctantly made his appearance. When 
our friend entered the place of business he found the 
box he had purchased replaced in stock. The China- 
man seemingly had no idea of delivering the purchased 
goods, thinking our steamer would leave Singapore 




'RlKSHAW? 'RlKSHAW? 



before the owner would be able to claim his rights. 
With the assistance of the city official the chest was 
restored to its owner, who hired a coolie to carry it to 
the steamer. 

The Chinamen are the dominating race, who work 
and accumulate wealth, while as a rule the natives con- 
tent themselves with lying all day in the sun. Our 



9° 



Glimpses Around the World 



stay in the midst of this tropical luxuriance, where 
languor reigns supreme, has been delightfully interest- 
ing. We learn that the products of the island consist 
of tapioca, cocoanut oil, indigo, gutta-percha, camphor, 
coral, tin, gums, hides and tiger skins. As we make 
our way back to our steamer, which will soon raise 
anchor, we pass a fruit stall. We cannot resist buying 




Street Scene in Singapore. 



some of the delicious fresh cocoanuts, and order the 
youthful shopkeeper to carry them to the wharf for 
us. Lithe of step, this brown-skinned person presents 
a unique sight as he walks along with a branch of fruit 
across his bare shoulder; "stop boy!" we shout, "we 
want to take your picture." Hurriedly dropping the 
ripened fruit on the ground, a voice answers, " Me, 
girl, no boy." And before we are able to speak, the 



The Golden Peninsula 



91 



dainty, fawn-like creature has vanished into the 
thicket. 




A Native Fruit Stall, Singapore. 

Several English soldiers, some with their families, 
have come aboard, adding to the list of second-class 
passengers en route to England. 

Troopin', troopin', give another cheer, 

Ere's to English women an' quart of English beer; 

The Colonel an' regiment an' all who've got to stay, 

Gawd's mercy; strike 'em gentle-Whoop. 

We're goin" ome to-day. 

A group of Tommy Atkins are waving and cheering 
from shore as our steamer glides out of the harbor of 
Singapore into the Straits of Malacca. 

Not a ripple is on the sea, the balmy breezes waft 
us their tropical fragrance, as we repose in our steamer 



9 2 



Glimpses Around the World 



chairs on deck. By rare good fortune the night is clear 
and with expectant eagerness we watch for the appear- 
ance of the most celebrated constellation of the 
southern heavens. We are told the Southern Cross 
will be visible about twelve o'clock. Shortly after 
midnight it makes its appearance. At first we are dis- 
appointed, for the arrangement of the stars suggests a 




Sampans. 



kite rather than a cross. It is not as bright nor as 
large as we expected. The fifth star is small and out of 
line, and seems to damage the shape, but the Pointers 
are beautifully white and bright. 

A restful day and two nights' cruise with bow headed 
northward, and we are lying off the Prince of Wales 
Island, close to the western shore of the Malay main- 



The Golden Peninsula 



93 



land, in the harbor of Penang, sometimes called George- 
town, another British possession. 

We are awakened at daybreak with the shouting and 
singing of " Ta-ra-ra-ra-boom de ay," and peering out 
of our port-holes we realize the sounds we hear emanate 
from the group of dusky boys who have gathered about 
our steamer. 




"Ta-ra-ra-ra-boom de ay. " 

They offer to plunge and swim if we will pay them. 
Let us do it. We tell them that we are ready and, 
throwing the coins into the water, they dive like strange 
creatures of the sea. In a few seconds all are again in 
their little boats, their alluring smiles drawing more 
coins from the pockets of the group who have gathered 
on deck. These brown lads entertain as long as the 
spectators seem interested. 



94 



Glimpses Around the World 



We reach the city with the launch, and engage a 
gharry to see Penang. Northam Road is a broad and 
picturesque street, lined with stately palms which 
shelter the handsome English villas, elaborate Chinese 
Joss houses and Hindu temples from the street. 

Passing through the native quarter we visit several 
of the Malay huts, which, like those seen in Singapore, 
are made of bamboo or cocoanut foliage and plastered 




Malay Street Scene. 



with mud. The street scenes are a miniatured reflec- 
tion of Singapore's native district. Few of the coolie 
men wear more than a loin cloth, while business men 
are usually clothed in white duck coats and cloth draped 
about their limbs. 

Here is a Malay coolie girl whose brilliant colored 
drapery, silvery bracelets, anklets and a jeweled nose 



The Golden Peninsula 



95 



ring contrast charmingly with her dusky skin. Though 
the burden upon her head is heavy, she walks with a 
queenly poise. 

Here is a poor little mite, who has hurt his foot, 
the father holds the child, while the good mother 
attends to the afflicted member. A neighbor seems 
interested in the operation. See the outer covering of 




Neighborly Interest. 



the breadfruit lying in a heap in the road, the family 
have just finished their repast. 

The natives do not seem to understand domesticity. 
Our guide tells us of a certain marriage ceremony, at 
which the relatives sit on the ground around an ant 
heap, while the bride and her father question the bride- 
groom as follows: , 

"Are you clever with the blow-pipe? 



96 Glimpses Around the World 

Can you fell trees cleverly? 

Are you a good climber ? 

Do you smoke cigarettes?" 

If the bridegroom answers these questions in the 
affirmative, the contracting parties smoke cigarettes, 
and then run around the group of relatives three times. 
If the groom succeeds in catching the bride they are 
declared a married couple, if the groom fails to catch 
his bride he tries again another day. Though the 
Malays usually follow the Mohammedan religion, they 
are allowed to marry but once. This leads us to sup- 
pose that before the introduction of Moslem culture, 
they were followers of the Hindu faith. Though we 
have little time to study the conditions of these natives 
of the Golden Peninsula, we feel that education and 
contact with western civilization, is just beginning to 
awaken the Malayans. This is the transitional moment 
of the Malay. 

Thus he, an old Malay with Eastern creed 
Of blind and changeless fate as God indeed; 
To whom replied a dweller in the West, 
With wisdom from a writing all may read. 

Though we have steamed due north for thirty-six 
hours the heat is intense, and we find it impossible 
to indulge in strenuous exercise. A sampan takes us 
back to the steamer, and by late afternoon we are toss- 
ing on the Indian Ocean en route to Ceylon. 

It is Sunday morning aboard our good ship Namur. 
Every member of the dusky crew appears on upper 
deck in glowing turban, loin-cloth and clean white 
jacket, to line up for inspection. As Captain Kendrick 
and the first officer pass down the line, we witness a 
well-drilled salute ; then a pantomime signal, and cooks 
and deck hands march again to their respective duties. 
At eleven o'clock the sounding of chiming bells gathers 
the passengers in the dining salon. The Episcopal 



The Golden Peninsula 97 

church service of England is read. Now, in the Indian 
Ocean, after months of heathenisms, we find it comfort- 
ing to join in the services. The speed of the ship fur- 
nishes a cooling breeze and we realize we are enjoying 
a serenity which cannot be experienced ' on land. 
There is nothing in sight from horizon to horizon, 
except a large school of flying-fish that flit about our 
steamer, their horizontally stretching pectorals looking 
like shimmering silver in the sunshine. We think of 
Kipling's 

On the Road to Mandalay 
Where the fiyin ' fishes play, 
An ' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China, crost the Bay. 

With regret we learn that time prevents us from 
visiting Burmah. 

When yet some twenty-four hours from port, one of 
the passengers on the aft side of the steamer calls our 
attention to the veritable cinnamon fragrance, wafted 
from the tropical isle which lies beyond the horizon. 
We are on the verge of crediting the discovery, when 
we 'notice several nearby passengers are laughing. 
Can it be at our expense ? Again the scent discoverer 
sweeps his extended arm before our gaze, as he calls 
our attention to a darkened shadow, where sky and 
sea seem to meet. We cannot see the shadow, even 
though we strain our eyes, but the smell of cinnamon 
is certainly noticeable. Ah! the recent discovery is 
all a joke. Our friend has begged some ground cinna- 
mon from the cook, and, sprinkling it in the palm of his 
hand, has tried to verify the well-known hymn, "The 
spicy breezes blow soft o'er Ceylon's Isle. " 

Late in the afternoon of the fourth day we pass the 
city of Galle, and shortly after the shades of night have 
fallen our steamer drops anchor just outside the break- 
water of Colombo's harbor. Sampans and Singhalese 
canoes gather about the ship, but we decide to remain 



98 Glimpses Around the World 

on board during the night. Effeminate-looking hotel 
runners and hawkers come aboard to solicit our patron- 
age, "Lady, buy paper?" says one dusky-skinned boy, 
who promptly produces a copy of the Paris edition of 
the "New York Herald," which we notice is dated some 
six weeks ago. A refined-looking man in coat and 
loin-cloth addresses us with gentle affability, as he 
displays a large case containing an assortment of 
jeweled rings and brooches. We wonder if they are 
genuine, stones. There is so much noise from the coal- 
ing of the ship we are unable to sleep. 



CHAPTER VII 

The Pearl Drop in India's Brow 

SIR EMERSON TENNENT, the historian of Ceylon, 
begins his work with the words, " Ceylon, from 
whatever direction it is approached, unfolds 
a scene of loveliness and grandeur unsurpassed, if it 
be rivaled, by any land in the universe. " We are told 
there is a Mohammedan legend about Adam and Eve, 
who, after their expulsion from the Garden of Eden, 
were transported to Ceylon. Lo ! if this was exile, what 
must have been Paradise? 

At daybreak the harbor presents a busy scene. 
Yonder lie towering hotels and government buildings, 
handsome examples of Renaissance architecture. The 
immense sweeping curves of the vermilion beaches 
are backed by forests of varying tones of green. 

After breakfast we engage a sampan and coolies to 
carry our baggage ashore. When we land at the Jetty 
we are entranced by the beauty which stretches before 
us. Here, rising out of the sea is the fruitful island, 
which is so near India that it is said to hang " like a 
pendant jewel. ' ' The lofty mountains are covered 
by luxuriant forests, till they meet the ripple of the 
waves. We have no difficulty at the custom office, 
and passing through the spacious square, the site of a 
lovely white marble statue of the late Queen Victoria, 
we find comfortable accommodations at the large 
and well-constructed Grand Oriental Hotel. Though 
less than half an hour has elapsed since we left the 
steamer we feel quite exhausted from the extreme heat. 

(99) 



ioo Glimpses Around the World 

Our rooms open upon a spacious veranda, which over- 
looks the busy thoroughfare, York Street. There 
are comfortable wicker chairs on the veranda, and 
shutters can be drawn if necessary to exclude the sun. 

The rooms, though simply furnished, are equipped 
with electric lights and fans, and the canopied beds are 
enveloped in white netting. A knock at the door 
announces the arrival of a brown-skinned chamber 
attendant. Is the person man or woman? A cloth 
wound about the limbs suggests a skirt, a white duck 
coat covers the upper part of the body, the facial ex- 
pression is refined and effeminate, and the long black 
hair, done into a knob in the back, is adorned at the 
top of the head with a semi-circular comb of tortoise- 
shell. He tells us he is a Singhalese, a native of Ceylon, 
and his name is Abdool. As he attends to our needs, 
we find him alert and gentle. 

It is time for tiffin. The lift lands us on the main 
floor, where the spacious dining salon is well filled 
with Europeans. The bare-footed waiters are Singha- 
lese men dressed in white coats and limb drapery. 
After four o'clock in the afternoon there is a slight 
breeze and we venture for a walk under the colonnade, 
which extends from the "G. O. H. " We no sooner 
leave the hotel than we are besieged by hawkers and 
runners from the shops along the street; ''Master, 
very pretty things here ; costs you nothing to look. ' ' 

" Lady, Lady, you like beautiful jewelry ? I sell very 
cheap. ' ' We tell them we will visit their shop to-mor- 
row, now we are out to take a walk. Let us try to 
turn a deafened ear and a blind eye to the alluring 
shops, and take our first glimpse of Colombo, the 
capital and seaport of England's richest island pos- 
session. 

Ceylon is one of the Crown Colonies, and British 
rule dates from 1796. His Majesty King Edward, 



Pearl Drop in India's Brow 101 

having entire control of the legislation, appoints a 
governor for a term of six years. There is a certain 
friendliness about this sunny city that charms us 
irresistibly; here everything is of the most radiant 
color and warm light. The dazzling whiteness of the 
houses glares in the sunlight, the earth is of astonish- 
ing redness, the sky is as blue as though dyed. 
What a dream of tropical splendor, of bloom and 
blossom. 

Perhaps the most fascinating pictures are those seen 
in the ancient Pettah, or Black Town, which is teeming 
with every variety of Oriental race and costume. The 
effeminate light-brown Singhalese, who belong to the 
Aryan race, are a Sanskrit-speaking people. It is in- 
teresting to know that they came from Central Asia, 
and entered India across the upper Indus, probably 
3000 B. C. 

Manly Tamils, Hindus of every caste and dress, 
Moormen, or Arab descendants, Afghan traders, Malay 
policemen, a few Parsees, Chinese and Karhr mixed 
descendants, are seen everywhere. 

The Singhalese women are usually slender and 
shapely creatures, as erect as lightning rods. They 
wear a brightly-colored, usually plaid, piece of cloth 
for a skirt and a short light-colored decollete bodice. 
Though bronze-skinned, their features are more refined 
than those of their neighboring Malay sisters. Unlike 
the men they wear no combs in their hair, which 
is done into braids and fastened with long metallic 
pins. Sometimes we see them wearing necklaces of 
bright seashells mixed with shark's teeth. 

Perhaps the most conspicuous men we pass in the 
streets are the Chetty, who belong to the Dravidean 
race. They are athletic, nobly built, dark-brown men, 
who wear a large white drapery about their limbs. 
One end of this robe is thrown over their dark polished 



102 



Glimpses Around the World 



shoulders. Being of Hindu religion their faces are 
decorated with certain colored markings, which in- 
dicate their caste, they are usually seen about the 




Singhalese Man. 

streets carrying huge black umbrellas as a protection 
against the burning sun. 

Here, walking in the center of the street, is one of 
the most picturesque Orientals we have met. The 
woman is probably Tamil, for her skin is of a deep- 
brown color. Her body is artistically draped in a 



Pearl Drop in India's Brow 



103 



striped cloth. Several gilt bracelets encircle her 
shapely arms and ankles, while huge rings pierce her 
ears and nose. Her figure is well poised. We think 




A Tamil Girl. 



of a beautiful bronze statue; indeed she looks as 
though she had just stepped from a pedestal in some 
choice art collection. 

Yonder is an antiquated bullock cart, with its 



io4 



Glimpses Around the World 



thatched tent. Listen to the strange ejaculations of 
the scantily-clad driver as he addresses the oxen. 

A native orchestra furnishes music at the hotel during 
the evening. Though we retire early seeking rest under 
the netting covers of the beds, the insects prove so 
annoying we cannot sleep. We are tempted to follow 
Mark Twain's words of wisdom, "Wait until the 
mosquitoes have all crawled under the net, then slip 




Bullock Cart. 

out quietly, shut them in, and sleep peacefully on the 
floor till morning. ' ' 

Before the heat of the vertical sun becomes oppres- 
sive we hire a carriage and drive over an excellent road 
to the Cinnamon Gardens. 

En route we pass many splendid cocoanut palm 
trees, which are heavily laden with ripening fruit. 
Our guide tells us the product of the cocoanut palm 
tree, which was introduced in Ceylon about the year 



Pearl Drop in India's Brow 105 

564 A. D., now represents the most important item 
of the colony's productions. We learn that the large 
leaves are woven into mats and baskets, the stalk and 
mid-ribs' make fences, the bud is an excellent vegetable 
and is sometimes made into a preserve. Then, when 
the palm is flowering, the natives tap the main flower 
stalk for a sweetish drink, known as "Toddy;" the 
evaporated toddy gives a coarse sugar, or, if allowed 
much fermentation, produces vinegar. The nuts are 
gathered after about ten months, some of the kernels 
are eaten raw but the large trade done is obtained by 
drying and pressing the kernels, from which two-thirds 
of the excretion is oil. This is sent to Europe and used 
in making soap, hair dressing and candles. The re- 
maining refuse is used as a valuable fattening food for 
cattle and poultry. The shells of the nuts are also used 
by the natives for drinking cups, dishes and spoons, 
and sometimes as fuel. We marvel at the ingenious 
native contrivances for using each part and particle 
of the cocoanut palm. As the fruit hangs on the trees, 
in weighty clusters, we notice it has a thick, husky 
covering ; even this is useful. The villagers split these 
husks* rot them in water, and beating out the soft 
tissue, find a number of long, stout fibers running 
lengthwise. This fiber, called coir, is used for making 
brushes, rope, mats and yarn. These interesting facts 
recall to our minds Whit tier's poem, to the " Prince 
of the Vegetable Kingdom : ' ' 

Is it the palm, the cocoa-palm, 

On the Indian Sea, by the isles of balm? 

Or is it a ship in the breezeless calm ? 

A ship whose keel is of palm beneath, 

Whose ribs of palm have a palm-bark sheath, 

And a rudder of palm it steereth with. 

Branches of palm are its spars and rails, 

Fibers of palm are its woven sails, 

And the rope is of palm that idly trails. 

What does the good ship bear so well ? 

The cocoanut with its stony shell, 

And the milky sap of its inner cell. 



106 Glimpses Around the World 

What are its jars, so smooth and fine, 

But hollowed nuts, filled with oil and wine, 

And the cabbage that ripens under the Line? 

Who smokes his nargileh, cool and calm ? 

The master, whose cunning and skill could charm 

Cargo and ship from the bounteous palm. 

In the cabin he sits on a palm mat soft 

From a beaker of palm his drink is quaffed, 

And a palm thatch shields from the sun aloft. 

His dress is woven of palmy strands, 

And he holds a palm-leaf scroll in his hands, 

Traced with the Prophet's wise commands. 

The turban folded about his head 

Was daintily wrought of the palm-leaf braid, 

And the fan that cools him of palm was made. 

Of threads of palm was the carpet spun 

Whereon he kneels when the day is done, 

And the foreheads of Islam are bowed as one. 

To him the palm is a gift divine, 

Wherein all uses of man combine, — 

House, and raiment, and food, and wine. 

And, in the hour of his great release, 

His need of the palm shall only cease 

With the shroud wherein he lieth in peace. 

"Allah il Allah, " he sings his psalm, 

On the Indian Sea, by the isles of balm; 

"Thanks to Allah who gives the palm!" 

We find the gardens of Ceylon's most famous spice a 
tangled mass of willowy shoots growing about four or 
five feet in height. If the plant were left to itself we 
are told it would form a small tree, but in cultivation 
it is cut so as to grow short and thick. The bark is 
peeled off, dried and rolled into quills by the Singhalese 
cinnamon peelers. The finer quills are made into bales, 
while the inferior grade is shipped as " chips. " As we 
pass through the groves we detect a slight fragrance. 

Continuing our drive, several little native boys run 
along beside our carriage. One little fellow, who is not 
even adorned with the customary anklets, bracelets and 
waist cord, flaps his little arms against his sides while 
he sings, " Twinkle, twinkle little star, how I wonder 
what you are." Though we do not encourage these 
little urchins to beg, this child of the tropics is so 
amusing, as he runs along for several blocks panting 



Pearl Drop in India's Brow 107 

and singing, that we throw a few coppers to him. 
This done, no fewer than half a hundred brown children 
seem to drop from somewhere— perhaps this is where 
the expression "raining nigger-babies" originated. 

The crowd of shiny, chocolate- colored mites, with 
their glorious large dark eyes, are performing in pan- 
tomime. They shout Backshish, Master, Backshish, 
as their little hands alternately beat their mouths and 




Raining Nigger-Babies. 

then their plump little stomachs. We surmise back- 
shish is equivalent to the Chinese term Kumshaw. 
We pass through the Victoria Park, and the museum 
which contains an interesting collection of things 
Ceylonese. Returning to the "G, O. H. " we find 
York Street in holiday attire. An elaborate bamboo 
and palm archway, made by the natives, is being 
erected near the Jetty. Posts and pillars along the 
thoroughfare are entwined in garlands; flags and 



108 Glimpses Around the World 

banners are floating from the buildings — all in prep- 
aration for the arrival of Their Highnesses the Duke 
and Duchess of Connaught of England, who, touring 
in the Orient, are expected in Colombo to-morrow. 

We have read of plants growing at such speed in the 
tropics, that their increase is actually visible to the 
watcher, and as we sit on the shaded veranda after 
tiffin, a native trickster and snake-charmer appears. 




Mango Tree Trick. 



He begs our attention, and squatting on the road- 
side he holds up a seed, while he says, "Master! 
Lady! mango-seed! see?" He makes a little hole in 
the ground and plants the seed, pours a bit of water 
on the ground and then he covers the spot with a piece 
of red cloth. He waves his magic wand over it several 
times, and then removing the cloth we see a small 
plant where the seed was buried. Another exhibition 



Pearl Drop in India's Brow 



109 



of deft maneuvers with the wand, during which time 
the plant is concealed under the mystic covering, and 
the mango plant has grown to two feet in height. 




Snake Charmer. 

We have paid attention and acknowledge this to be 
a singularly clever performance. 

Our smiling magician then produces a round covered 
basket; removing the lid, a serpent wriggles to the 
road. With an air of nonchalance, the charmer allows 
this deadly cobra-di-capello to coil itself about his 



no Glimpses Around the World 

body. Sometimes the snake strikes at the bare legs 
and arms of the sorcerer, who is playing a monotonous 
tune on a pipe. Of course the reptile 's efforts are not 
fatal, for its poisonous fangs have been extracted. 
We have enjoyed witnessing this characteristic per- 
formance, and please our entertainer with a silver rupee 
for which he bows low in gratitude. 

At sunset we indulge in another delightful drive, 
passing the prepossessing government offices and 
Governor's residence, which is now occupied by Sir 
Henry A. Blake. Exquisite is the effect of the sun's 
brilliant red after-glow, as we continue our drive along 
the water-front, visiting the Galle Face Hotel, which 
overlooks the sea. 

It is Friday, the Mohammedan's Sabbath, and as we 
pass an open space of ground we see natives gathered 
around a booth listening to a priest who seems to be 
performing religious services. 

The heat of the day is over, and before returning to 
the hotel we accept the urgent invitations of several 
shopkeepers. We find it a rare treat to view the 
gorgeous display of precious stones and artistic tropical 
souvenirs. It has been said, " Ceylon is the pearl drop 
in India's brow," and the pearl fishery is certainly a 
historic industry of the island. We remember it was 
the pearls and gems that brought the Phoenicians 
coasting hither, later the Romans, Levantines and 
Greeks, then the Arabs, and finally the control of the 
pearl fishery is in the hands of the British Government 
agent. 

During February, March and April, the divers, who 
are usually Tamils, are offered a commission of one- 
third of the oysters they fish. 

The suave shopkeepers show us quantities of beauti- 
ful pearl necklaces, the loveliest of pigeon-blood rubies, 
sparkling sapphires, moonstones which we learn are 



Pearl Drop in India's Brow m 

the only gems exclusively dug from the solid rock, 
amethysts, Oriental topaz, and the star-stone or " as- 
teria, ' ' which, when cut in a particular direction, ex- 
hibits a six-rayed star of light. These and the highly 
valued specimens of cat's-eye are peculiar to Ceylon. 

Shortly before entering this shop we were pestered 
by a street hawker, who offered us six cat 's-eye stones 




Moslem Religious Service in the Open. 

for three rupees. Of course we surmised they were of 
an inferior kind and refused the generous offer. Even 
in many of the shops the merchants ask various 
prices expecting to be bargained with. This, to the 
unsophisticated shopper, means swindle. We, how- 
ever, have had experience during the past months spent 
in the Orient, and are prepared for good-natured 
bartering. 



ii2 Glimpses Around the World 

An old man who has followed us for several minutes, 
displays a white carved fan, which, he says, is ivory. 
First he asks eight rupees, and we pay no attention to 
him. He persistently asserts the remarkable value 
of the fan, and offers it for six rupees. We do not wish 
the fan and still are indifferent to his solicitations. 
"You give me four rupees?" he asks, and still he 
follows us along the sidewalk. Other hawkers offer 
jewels, postal cards, laces, flowers, and innumerable 
other souvenirs. After about ten minutes the old man 
with the fan says, "How much you give?" In mere 
jest one of our party offers one rupee. The salesman 
hesitates a moment and then answers, " all right, you 
take it, one rupee." This really seems like quite a 
bargain, for, though the fan is no doubt vegetable 
ivory, it is carved nicely. Our friend willingly pays 
what we calculate is about thirty-three cents in 
American money. We enter another curio shop, and 
seeing a fan such as has just been purchased on the 
street, we ask its price. The shopkeeper tells us, "one- 
half rupee. ' ' Enough of street hawkers. 

Returning to the hotel we find a group of dusky old 
women on the veranda. They are selling beautiful 
hand-made Ceylon lace, and the ladies of our party 
are enthusiastic purchasers. 

Saturday morning we are awakened by sounds of 
military music. European and native troops are 
already assembling at the Jetty. A corps of Sikh 
policemen in khaki and flaming turbans has lined the 
street. Expectant natives in holiday attire are peering 
from piazzas and housetops. We reserve seats on the 
"G. O. H. " veranda and watch the important per- 
sonages of Ceylon make their way to the Jetty, which 
has been transformed into a royal reception room. 
The Governor, the various foreign ambassadors and 
prominent citizens drive by. 



Pearl Drop in India's Brow 



n 3 



Here are perhaps the most unique characters we 
have seen, for the Kandyan chiefs only wear these 
gold embroidered jackets and curious head-dresses of 
precious jewels and velvet on state occasions such as 
this. 

A succession of twenty-one cannon shots announces 
the arrival of the royal party. At about eleven 




Kandyan Chiefs. 

o'clock a mounted bodyguard of some dozen uniformed 
men, carrying red and white flags, rush through the 
street towards the Governor's House. They are 
rapidly followed by the royal equipage, drawn by 
four black steeds, whose attendants are dressed in red 
livery. The Duke and Duchess, seated in the open 
victoria bow graciously to right and to left as the 
cheering crowds offer their welcome. Mounted guards 



ii4 Glimpses Around the World 

follow the brother and sister-in-law of H. M. King 
Edward, to the Governor's residence, and the excite- 
ment is over. 

During the afternoon the royal party return to 
their steamer incognito. As they expect to spend some 
time on the Spicy Isle, after a visit to the Straits 





- «" ■■■ 




j[— •■ 







Arrival of the Duke and Duchess of Connaught. 



Settlement, all of Colombo's elaborate celebration 
will be postponed until that time. 

Preparatory to to-morrow's trip up-country, we 
indulge in a siesta. Daybreak finds us in readiness 
for our excursion. En route to the railway station we 
drive through Blacktown. We are shocked at the 
sight before us; for starved-looking, naked, human 
beings are lying motionless all about the gutters of the 



Pearl Drop in India's Brow 115 

streets and alleys, while others are slumbering on door- 
steps. We are told they are mostly Tamils, who have 
come here from southern India in hope of finding 
work on the rice and tea plantations. Alas! they are 
so poor several of these creatures are found dead in 
the streets each morning from starvation and exposure. 
"Why should these poor mortals hunger, thirst and 
suffer so pitifully where Nature has prepared a para- 
dise of beauty? In a comfortable first-class railway 
carriage we make the ascent of seventy-five miles to 
Kandy, the former capital of the Kingdom of Kandy, 
wmich is picturesquely situated 1,680 feet above the 
level of the sea. From the windows of our compart- 
ment we see the vast stretches of green paddy land, 
where coolies are toiling. Yonder tea plantations are 
dotted with women and children who are busy plucking 
the young shoots at the top of the bushes. The tea 
plant, which is cultivated to grow only to a height of 
about three feet, produces shoots which are known as a 
" flush. ' ' As the temperature of Ceylon is unvarying, 
' ' flushing ' ' continues the whole year around. After the 
shoots have been gathered they are withered, rolled 
and dried before being shipped to the various foreign 
markets. All the fertilizing is done by means of 
irrigation. 

More beautiful to gaze upon than the dwarf tea 
bushes, are the graceful drooping branches of the 
Cacao (ka-ka'd) estates. Their foliage suggests our 
autumnal tinted maple trees. If we could study the 
plant in detail we should find the blossoms white and 
pink, and the bottle-shaped, fleshy substance of the 
fruit yellow, red or green. We make the acquaintance 
of an interesting European fellow-traveler, who has 
spent much time on the island. He tells us that the 
ripened fruit of the Cacao-palm is picked and carefully 
split open, then the seeds are removed and piled into 



n6 Glimpses Around the World 

heaps under covers of leaves and sand to allow fermen- 
tation. After this fermentation is completed the seeds 
are washed and dried in the sun. The more delicate 
the color of the inner kernel, the higher the value of the 
cacao bean. 

Though the scenery en route is deservingly famous 
for its beauty, we find the dust and heat exhausting. 
At several stations along the line natives come to the 
train to sell delicious looking bunches of fresh bananas, 
pineapples and cocoanuts. The cocoanuts are still 
wearing their fibrous outer wraps. One-half a rupee 
purchases a refreshing lunch. The native cracks the 
nut for us and we quench our thirst by drinking of the 
sweetish milk. After a four-hours' trip our train 
arrives at Kandy. 

Several guides are waiting to serve us. Engaging 
comfortable covered carriages we drive some four miles 
to the famous Peredeniya Botanical Gardens. A good 
road leads us through a shaded thicket, dotted with 
one-story bamboo huts, the walls of which are plastered 
with mud and thatched with palm leaves. Though 
simple and frail-looking, these nests serve their purpose 
well in protecting the native occupants from the severe 
equatorial rainfalls, which are prevalent. The huts 
are built without chimneys or windows, but the doors 
admit the light and the little cooking of these folk is 
done out of doors. 

A delightful fragrance is wafted to us as we enter 
Mother Earth's Pantry. The Peredeniya Gardens, 
which cover over nearly one hundred and fifty acres, 
are recognized as one of the loveliest spots in the world. 

Sweet is the breath of morn, with charm of 

earliest birds; pleasant the sun 
When first on this delightful land he speads 
His Orient beams on herb, tree, fruit and flower, 
Glist'ring with dew; fragrant the fertile earth 
After soft showers. " 

Paradise Lost. 



Pearl Drop in India's Brow 117 

Surely here "every prospect pleases. " Though our 
carriage is permitted to pass through the winding 
paths, we often alight to wander in among the innum- 
erable variety of palms. 

We pause under a clove tree to gather some of the 
green spice which we deposit in our pockets. To- 
morrow, we shall find them brown and as ripe as when 
we purchase them at home. Our guide points to the 
fruit of several large trees, which he says are nutmegs. 
We do not recognize the kernel, such as is used in our 
kitchens, for in her home "Meg" wears an outer coat 
of green. Here are pepper vines whose large leaves 
cling to the neighboring palm trunks. There are 
Java almond trees, rare specimens of huge bamboo 
and what is known as the Cannon tree so named 
because the uneatable fruit resembles a cannon ball 
in size and color. We remember Arabian coffee was 
formerly the mainstay of Ceylon's agriculture, and here 
we have coffee bushes. We have prepared ourselves 
with lunch, which we are convinced will not lack 
seasoning, and finding a shaded grove we enjoy a 
picnic in the arboreal paradise. Lotus blossoms fill 
the nearby pool, but we are warned not to penetrate 
into the dampness, where venomous snakes abound. 
Brilliant butterflies float about in the sunshine, and 
birds of fantastic plumage flit in the sheltering branches 
of huge trees. We are loath to take our leave. 

Returning to the city of Kandy we visit the Maligawa 
Temple, better known as the Temple of Buddha's 
Tooth. The temple was built as a receptacle for the 
sacred tooth of Buddha, which was brought to Ceylon 
about 31 1 A. D. by a princess of Kalinga, who, it is said, 
concealed the precious relic in the folds of her hair. Tra- 
dition records that the tooth was carried away by the 
Malabars, and though recovered was again captured by 
the Portuguese, who burned it at Goa in the presence of 



II, 



Glimpses Around the World 



several dignitaries. A Singhalese king presented the 
temple with an imitation ivory tooth of prodigious 
size and this was enclosed in the costly shrine. Visitors, 
were allowed to view the sacred memento, but once, 
after a certain king had made a pilgrimage here and 
gazed upon the tooth, there was a severe rainfall 
which lasted several weeks causing great damage. 




Devotees Entering the Temple of Buddha's Tooth. 

The fanatical devotees, thinking this deluge a sign of 
the Great Buddha's displeasure, ordered the shrine to 
be sealed up, that no worshiping visitors might look 
upon the tooth again ; accordingly we are debarred the 
privilege. We enter the old dingy sanctuary decorated 
with frescos, representing the various punishments 
inflicted on the wicked after death ; for these Buddhists 



Pearl Drop in India's Brow 



119 



believe in reincarnation. Everything about us is 
reeking with filth, and we hurriedly pass the half- 
naked, sleeping tom-tom players, who are lying about 
the temple. Solemn yellow-robed priests, who look 




Kandyan Priests. 



as " forlorn and destitute of spiritual peace and com- 
fort as of worldly luxuries," are conducting queer 
services by shouting while they march about the stuffy 
building. 



120 



Glimpses Around the World 



Glancing into the rare old library, an attending priest 
points with special pride to a pressed leaf, which, he 
says, was placed in one of the book-cases by Sir Edwin 
Arnold. We make our way to the temple platform 
from where the Kandyan chiefs always review the 
sacred elephant parade which occurs once each year. 
Here we obtain a view of the lovely miniature lake 




Sacred Elephants Belonging to the Kandy Temple. 



overhung on all sides by thickly-wooded hills. The 
cool, clear water and fragrant green foliage waft us a 
distant breath of refreshment, but the wailing cries of 
" backshish" uttered from the distressed looking group 
of beggars remind us we are still, in this ancient house 
of worship, surrounded by disgusting filth and poverty. 
We hurriedly return to our carriage and a drive of some 



Pearl Drop in India's Brow 



121 



two miles brings us to a thickly wooded grove and lake 
where the sacred elephants are kept. We know that 
the elephants of Ceylon are noted for their intelligence, 
and though not as large as those found in Africa they 
are more highly prized. Some of the five-toed mam- 
mals are at work carrying enormous tree trunks out 
of the forest. In the water lies Tosca, the ninety- 




Elephants of Ceylon. 



year-old pet and largest of the sacred elephants. Tosca 
does no work and only makes an appearance at the 
annual church procession in Kandy. 

The pretty lake which we first viewed from the 
temple platform is not a case of " distance lends en- 
chantment, " for its beauty and refreshing atmosphere 
increase as we make a circular driving tour around its 



122 Glimpses Around the World 

wooded banks. We have spent an interesting day, and 
after refreshments at the Queen's Hotel, take the eve- 
ning train back to Colombo. 

From the G. O. H. veranda, by the aid of the tele- 
scope, we can distinguish the steamship Palawan lying 
in Colombo 's harbor. She is beckoning for us to be off 
with her to India, and as we are conscious of the rapidly 
advancing season, we free ourselves by mental force 
from the fettering enchantment of this " Eden of the 
Eastern Wave," and regretfully take a lingering fare- 
well of the Jetty and the distant clock-tower of the 
capital of Ceylon, Oriental in its last measure of com- 
pleteness; "Ceylon, the brave island, very fruitful 
and fair. ' ' 

Though the steamship Palawan is one of the small 
old liners belonging to the P. and O. Company, we enjoy 
the sunny restful days spent on her deck in company 
with some seventy-five congenial men and women, 
mostly English residents of India, who are returning 
from their holidays. One of the officers on board asks 
us, "Why do the young ladies always like Colombo?" 
As we offer no satisfactory answer, he tells us, "Be- 
cause of the Singhalese (single-hes) . ' ' 

Before entering India let us familiarize ourselves 
with the following rules for the pronunciation of the 
vowels in Sanskrit: 

a unmarked is like u in but. 

a is like a in far. 

e is like e in prey. 

i unmarked is like i in him. 

i is like ee in feel. 

o is like o in gold. 

u is like oo in good. 



CHAPTER VIII 

The Land of Wonders 

India is the one land that all men desire to see, and having once seen, 
by even a glimpse, would not give that glimpse for the shows of all the 
rest of the globe combined. — Mark Twain. 

FIVE days aboard a P. and 0. Liner, steaming due 
north in the Bay of Bengal, with calm weather, 
lands us in Calcutta Harbor. 
The English customs-officer who comes aboard 
causes us no delay of examination, and we order our 
baggage placed on the small boat which tows us up the 
narrower par> of the muddy Hooghly River, always a 
terror to sailors, and through which our steamer can- 
not pass. 

Several native guides or " bearers," as they are 
called, in European dress and speaking a broken Eng- 
lish, offer their services for our entire tour through 
India, displaying besmeared notes and cards of recom- 
mendation received from earlier fellow-tourists. One 
respectable looking fellow assists us in engaging coolies 
to transport our baggage ashore through the noisy 
confusion, hires a gharry, and escorts us to our hotel. 
We accept his services at the rate of about three 
rupees, or one American dollar, per day. Though the 
hotels are considered first-class and charge prices ac- 
cordingly, they do not furnish service, and this well- 
developed grown man, our bearer, lies or squats outside 
our room door, awaiting the clap of our hands the 
universal signal here which brings him to our service, 
as chamber attendant, interpreter, or guide in sight- 

(123) 



124 Glimpses Around the World 

seeing, as the occasion demands. Human life here 
seems almost ant cheap, if not dirt cheap. 

We find Calcutta, the winter headquarters of the 
Government of India, a nourishing city of about eight 
hundred and fifty thousand Hindus, Mohammedans, 
Christians and Jews. Its business district presents the 
appearance of an English city. 

In a victoria carriage with dusky coachman and 
bearer on the box, and footmen in white turbans, we 
start out in the early hours of the morning, to see the 
chief city of the province of Bengal. 

Some poor natives are still asleep in obscure street 
corners, but the vast throngs of brown-skinned Hindus 
in loin-cloths, with white drapery thrown artistically 
over their shoulders, are on their way to their daily 
devotion to Brahma, who, according to Hindu re- 
ligion, is the one impersonal and spiritual Being who 
pervades everything; each worshiper is carrying his 
shining brass water- vessel, or lota. 

The Bathing Ghat is the center of early morning 
activity, for here the Hindus cleanse themselves of 
their sins by bathing in the Hooghly River, which we 
know is an important outlet of the sacred Ganges. 
The stone steps, partly under cover and leading to the 
river, are well dotted with small stands or booths, 
where priests sit or squat selling oil and vegetable dye, 
with which the worshipers anoint and decorate them- 
selves. 

Let us follow this large, strong-looking, brown- 
skinned man who has just entered the throng. He 
buys a bit of cocoanut and cinnamon oil and pouring 
a part of it upon his body, performs a sort of self mas- 
sage treatment, while he offers his prayers to Shiva, 
the all destroyer and producer, and to his wife Kali. 
He then plunges into the stream, and turning his face 
toward the east offers a prayer to Surya (the sun), 



The Land of Wonders 



12 



while he pours a bit of water from his lota over his 
hands. He remains but a few minutes in the stream, 
and after another anointment wraps his body in his 
white drapery and makes his way to one of the booths. 
He squats before the priest, who, with a few deft 
movements, completes the toilet by besmearing his 
forehead with a bit of red and white ochre. The design 




Calcutta's Bathing Ghat at Sunrise. 



produced is a small red circle with two horizontally- 
curved lines above; an indication of caste. Though 
originally a distinction between priests, soldiers, arti- 
sans and menials, now each trade has a separate caste. 
Perhaps the priests insist on these stringent rules as 
a means of securing their own special supremacy. The 
priest receives a small fee, plus the customary back- 



126 



Glimpses Around the World 



shish, and our Hindu, filling his ever-present lota 
with holy river water, starts on his way. In the 
street just outside the Bathing Ghat is a shrine to 
the Goddess Kali, a small stone imas^e in a low brick 



|J8M ' -^h^ ... 




A Hindu Deity. 



enclosure. Here our worshiper, in passing, stops to 
offer another prayer, while he pours a bit of the holy 
water, which he is carrying in his brass vessel, over the 
small idol. He buys a few yellow flowers from the 



The Land of Wonders 



127 



nearby vender, and placing them on or near the idol, 
passes on with a contented expression, now feeling 
himself free from the pangs of suffering which the 
Goddess Kali, the terrible, is known to inflict upon her 
victims. 

We return to our carriage and drive along the river 
front, past the Women's Bathing Ghat, to the Burning 
Ghat, where all the dead Hindus of Calcutta are cre- 




Women's Bathing Ghat. 



mated. As we near we hear the voices of a multitude, 
and turning around we see a primitive looking litter 
made of bamboo, carried by some half a dozen coolies 
and followed by a number of men of higher caste. Our 
guide tells us to leave our conveyance, and follow him 
in behind the high stone wall which screens the Burning 
Ghat from the street. We are, however, curious to see 
the cause of the confusion, and linger. Alas ! these coolie 
pall-bearers have dropped their burden in their eager 



128 



Glimpses Around the World 



desire to gather some of the coin which the mourners 
are scattering to the poor along the way. As the litter 
is raised again, we see that the corpse lies exposed, the 
only covering being a mass of yellow flowers which 
add their bit of brightness to this melancholy sight. 
We pass behind the wall where several coolies are 
employed arranging the fires. 




Burning Ghat. 



Smoke permeates the air, a crack of burning brush ; 
and as we look closer we see five burning heaps. A 
group of three or four men squatting together near one 
pile proves to be mourners who are remaining until 
the names shall have entirely consumed the body of 
their dead. When the mourners have seen the remain- 
ing ashes thrown into the sacred stream they will dis- 



The Land of Wonders 129 

perse, feeling satisfied that the soul of the departed has 
been saved. 

Until half a century ago a chaste wife, known to the 
Hindus as Sati, or Sutter, considered it her duty to 
offer her life as a sacrifice at the cremation of her dead 
husband, when she would voluntarily throw herself 
into the consuming flames. Was it a case of "leaping 
out of the frying-pan into the fire ? " A Hindu woman 
can never remarry, for fear of crowding the marriage 
market. "The bridegroom cometh but once." She 
must end her days a despised, maltreated widow at the 
mercy of a tyrant mother-in-law. History records 
that Ranjeet Singh, the Punjab Rajah, was cremated 
in sandal wood with forty of his wives, in 1838. Now 
the government prohibits this barbaric custom, but 
the enfranchisement of the female element is still a 
vital problem in the East. 

Preparations have been made for the litter which is 
entering. We find a sort of trench about two feet deep 
upon which the wood and brush has been piled. The 
corpse is laid upon this mass, and the attending coolie 
with a torch lights the head first, the body being that 
of a man. Our guide tells us the smouldering heap 
nearby was lit at the feet, being the remains of a 
woman. The noisy confusion of the street just beyond 
does not seem to penetrate the wall, for a quiet som- 
brous atmosphere surrounds this primitive crematory. 
We shudder at the ghastly sight, yet, returning to the 
street, we recall the many years this holy rite has been 
performed, and decide that in this over-crowded coun- 
try this is, no doubt, the best means of disposing of the 
dead. 

Again we are in our carriage, driving some two miles 
to Manicktallah, the site of a modern Jain Temple, 
which was founded by Rai Buddree Dass Bahadur, a 
wealthy Calcutta jeweler in 1867, and is now owned by 



130 Glimpses Around the World 

his son. We know that the Jain Temple ranks among 
the purest and highest in the Hindu religion, but we are 
surprised to learn from our guide that the principal 
points of Jainism are: — First, never hurt nor destroy 
any living creature for any reason, indeed there are 
Pinjrapoles , or rooms of refuge for animals, insects, 
bugs, etc., where a coolie is paid a few pice, the smal- 
lest coin in circulation in India, about equal to one- 
half cent in American money, to sit down while the 
lice, bugs and other insects feed on him. Second, the 
practice of Yog, or union of the soul with the univer- 
sal soul. Third, that the soul and the world are 
eternal. Fourth, there is no creator and no destroyer, 
but the God eternal, or the Highest Being, our own 
souls after they have obtained "Nirvana." 

Just as we enter the court, surrounded by the group 
of buildings, which are a mass of glitter, the owner of 
the temple and his young son alight from a closed 
carriage. 

Their coats and loin drapery are of delicate-colored 
silk and satin, and each wears a gold-embroidered 
turban. Both father and son are bringing offerings, 
which they carry on silver trays; one contains two 
cocoanuts and the other three large luscious looking 
apples. 

Leaving their sandals in their private apartment, 
they make their way to the temple where the tom-toms 
are beginning to sound. 

We, non-Hindus, by removing our shoes are allowed 
to enter the temple circuit, and ascending the marble 
steps obtain an excellent view of the interior of the 
temple which is a dazzling spectacle; mirrored panels 
surrounded by costly mosaics, huge, splendid crystal 
chandeliers, and a mass of gilt at the altar. The 
chiming of sweet bells seems to herald the arrival of 
these special worshipers, who are met by a priest in a 



The Land of Wonders 



I3 1 



flowing white robe. The offerings are placed before 
the idols at the altar. The devotional service of the 
priest, the owner of the temple and his son seems to 
consist of a series of bows and chanting prayers. The 
lower caste of worshipers, who have congregated about 
us, suddenly fall face downward to the floor in devout 
reverence. Recovering our shoes at the temple gate, 




Jain Temple, Calcutta. 



we follow the winding paths about the exquisite flower 
gardens, palms and ground medallions of inlaid tile. 
Our ever-returning gaze to the temple proper with its 
characteristically carved pillars, octagonal dome, and 
elaborate roofing, convinces us that here we have 
found such elegance as we have never looked upon be- 
fore, and which has never even been imagined in Gothic 



132 Glimpses Around the World 

architecture. In a tastefully arranged waiting-room 
at the side of the temple we are requested before leaving 
to add our signatures to the " Guest Book. " 

Driving back into the city we stop near the large 
domed General Post-office, where a tablet has been 
erected by the late Viceroy, Lord Curzon ; on it we read, 
" Behind the Gateway immediately adjoining this spot is 
the site of the Black Hole Prison in Old Fort William. ' ' 

We recall this as the site of the fatal den where some 
one hundred and twenty Europeans met their horrible 
death in 1756. 

The Government House, or residence of the present 
Viceroy of India, Lord Minto, is attractively situated 
in the center of the city. It has an enclosure of about 
six acres and its many entrances are well guarded by 
uniformed soldiers. 

We pass the Eden Gardens, the evening meeting- 
place of Calcutta society, and enjoy a look at the 
quaintly picturesque Burmese Pagoda. 

Here is the splendid statue of Sir William Peel, who 
served in Lucknow and died of small-pox at Cawnpore, 
after the final relief of the presidency. The Town Hall, 
built in Doric style, stands nearby, and beyond is the 
Imperial Museum, which contains a noteworthy col- 
lection. Passing through the mammals exhibit, we 
marvel at the many curious skeletons of animals from 
remote parts of the Himalaya Mountains, Himalaya, 
in Sanskrit, means Halls of Snow. Many of these 
beings have never been seen alive by Europeans. 

Here is the carcass of an Indian elephant, measuring 
twelve feet from the shoulders to the ground, and there 
is a tortoise of prodigious size. In the gallery of anti- 
quities there are many selected pieces from the most 
famous ancient buildings in India. We note with 
satisfaction several native students trying to decipher 
the curious hieroglyphics. 



The Land of Wonders 133 

The Royal Mint, which, our bearer says, is the 
largest in the world, is a copy of the Minerva Temple at 
Athens. 

In one open carriage which has just passed us driving 
along the Maidan, or Esplanade, we see an olive-skin- 
ned lady in a bright blue draped costume. She wears 
no hat, her shiny black hair is dressed high and her 
black eyes sparkle; but for the huge, ugly, gold nose- 
ring, which reaches below her mouth we might consider 
her a beauty. 

As the railways through India furnish no bedding 
we are obliged to supply ourselves with necessities in 
the European shops which we find well equipped. 

What throngs of natives meet our eyes as we reach 
the large railway station. Have we encountered an 
excursion ? Men, women and children lie or squat about 
the stone floor of the station with their bedding, which 
usually consists of an old blanket or ragged quilt 
wrapped about their person. We are told that this is 
but the usual number of Hindu pilgrims en route to 
Benares, their custom being to arrive several hours 
before the departure of the train, making the station 
platform their temporary abode. The loud shrill 
voices emerging from these half-clothed beings produce 
an almost riotous confusion. We are happy to pass 
this noisy mass of humanity. 

The first-class compartment, which has been reserved 
for us, is a big comfortable place. There are two long, 
leather upholstered seats, and two more which, sus- 
pended from above, can be used as berths at night. 
At the foot of each sofa is a side door for entrance and 
exit, and along either side of the whole length of the car 
are large single plate windows ; some of the glass is blue 
which serves as a protection for the eyes in the glaring 
sun. On the ceiling there are two oil lamps with green 
cloth attachments which can be drawn when retiring. 



134 Glimpses Around the World 

A netting for hand-baggage is fastened along one wall, 
while at the other end a door leads into a narrow little 
closet, which has a wash-basin and a small irregular 
mirror. We must furnish our own soap and towels 
as well as bedding, water and attendant. We prepare 
ourselves with bottled drinking water from the station 
vender, and after the native conductor, who speaks 
English quite well, collects our railway tickets, a bell 
sounds and we leave Calcutta. 




A Group of Brahmans. 

Though the midday sun is tropical in its heat, we find 
warm wraps acceptable after dusk. We have secured 
lunch for the fifteen-hours' trip, as there is no buffet, 
and food procured en route is of an uncertain quantity 
and quality. At nearly every station a native appears 
on the platform, serving water from a goat-skin bag, 



The Land of Wonders 135 

which he carries on his back. Promptly a row of brown 
arms, each hand holding a shining lota, is thrust 
through the open windows, eager to be served with a bit 
of murky-looking liquid. No brakesman calls out the 
stations, and as our compartment does not communi- 
cate with those adjoining we must keep on the lookout 
for Mogul Sarai, where we change cars for Benares. 

While waiting to make train connections we become 
acquainted with an intelligent Hindu who speaks Eng- 
lish. He tells us he is Panbit Dalganja Dube, the pro- 
vincial chief of police. He judges we are Americans 
and wishes to visit with us. He seems anxious to 
learn about our interesting new country and asks one of 
the members of our party if he will accept a rare old 
book which he possesses; one which has been in his 
family for a century. Before long the official's servant 
appears at the station with a huge volume printed in 
English. As he presents the book to the favored mem- 
ber of our party, he says, " Let me receive a message 
from America when you get home, and I shall feel well 
repaid for giving you this book about Hinduism and 
castes. ' ' 

A persuai of the valued volume convinces us that 
caste is the curse of India, for no man can rise above 
the class in which he is born. Neither wealth nor 
success can effect the caste of any Hindu. A weaver 
is less "unclean" than a carpenter, — a carpenter is 
above a house-cleaner, — a house-cleaner is above a 
street-cleaner, and a street-cleaner is above a pariah, 
or no-caste man. Every trade or occupation has its 
exact place fixed in the scale of degradation. Above 
all the men who labor with their hands, in whatsoever 
way, are the tradesmen and shopkeepers, also with 
sub-division into classes. Above the tradesman is the 
useless and now almost idle warrior class, above the 
warriors are the Brahmans or priestly class, and with 



*» 



136 Glimpses Around the World 

these grand divisions the structure of the system is 
complete. One may hire for a cook or valet a Brahman 
of the purest caste, who, for weeks before his engage- 
ment, has been on the verge of starvation. 

The meager beggar to whom you toss alms in the 
road, may be of a very high caste. The well-fed 
groom in gorgeous livery, flashing by on a carriage 
that covers the beggar with dust, may be of a caste a 
mile below the beggar. Time, no more than effort, 
can break down these walls of division. 

Recently one of the party requested our bearer, 
Methar, who is of high caste, to clean the bath-room. 
Methar seemingly understood, yet he began to 
straighten out the bed clothes. Again the request 
was made to clean, and this time Methar disappeared, 
returning promptly with a coolie whom he had en- 
gaged to do the work for him, for, he tells us, he would 
lose caste if he cleaned the bath-room himself. 

We are told that one of the wealthiest and most dis- 
tinguished families in Calcutta, the famous Tagore 
family, lost caste about two hundred years ago. Mem- 
bers of this family have received honor from the govern- 
ment, have conferred great benefits upon the city and 
country, and have been noted for their numerous 
charities. One exerted himself all his life to further 
native education, another helped to endow Calcutta 
University. All are enormously rich and all bear 
enviable reputations for goodness, honesty and philan- 
thropy, but the wall of caste has never fallen for them. 
They are still hated and avoided by their countrymen 
exactly as they were at the beginning of their exclusion. 
In the streets of Calcutta is many a ragged artisan, 
that would not sit on the same bench with a "Tagore," 
or even touch the end of his robe. Pain, suffering, 
penury, even death itself, is nothing to the Hindu com- 
pared with the loss of caste. Many a Hindu that in 



The Land of Wonders 137 

the old days would yield nothing to the most fiendish 
tortures, quickly surrendered his secrets when threat- 
ened with something that would contaminate hirn, a 
piece of cow-skin perhaps, or a glass of water that had 
been touched by a pariah. In thousands of cases per- 
sons that have hopelessly lost their caste have aban- 
doned their homes and wandered miserably along the 
roads until death overtook them. Thousands of others 
have thrown themselves into the Ganges, or deliberately 
starved. 

Three Brahmanees who had been degraded by a 
Mussulman went before a judge to demand vengeance, 
and when the judge declined to interfere, killed them- 
selves in the court-room. At a town called Buj Buj, a 
widow lost caste by falling in love with a man beneath 
her. As loss of caste by one member of the family 
degrades the others also, her eldest son immediately 
swallowed poison and died, and his remaining brethren 
fled into the country. A husband shares a wife's 
degradation. A wife goes down the steps with a hus- 
band. For more than one hundred years a Brahman 
family of Santipur has been outcaste because one mem- 
ber fell in love with the daughter of a shoemaker. 
We also learn that the bulk of the population of India 
are the poor Sudra, or laborers. The very term implies 
contempt, for if a Sudra, sits on the level with his supe- 
riors, he shall be exiled or branded ; if he speaks con- 
temptuously of his superiors, he shall suffer death; 
if he listens to the readings of the sacred book, he shall 
have burning oil poured into his ears ; if he memorizes 
passages from them, he shall be killed, and if he marries 
his daughter to a Brahman, the husband shall go to 
Hell for defiling himself by contact with a woman his 
inferior. It is forbidden for a Sudra to even ac- 
quire wealth. 

Again we encounter the swarms of Hindu pilgrims, 



138 Glimpses Around the World 

who, like ourselves, are en route to the sacred city. 
We know " Benares is to the Hindu what MecGa is to the 
Mohammed and Jerusalem to the Jew and Christian. " 

Lack of time prevents us from following a side road 
which leads to Buddha Gaya, and the sacred Bo-tree, 
under which Buddha sat, for Mr. J. V. Omar says, 
"If it were possible to ascertain by any means what 
particular spot on earth is most sacred in the opinion 
of mankind, there is every reason to think that the 
majority of votes would be in favor of Buddha Gaya. " 

The Budhi tree, thence forward in all years 

Never to fade and ever to be kept 

In homage of the world, beneath whose leaves 

It was ordained that Truth should come to Buddha, 

Which now the Master knew, wherefore he went 

With measured pace,, steadfast, majestical, 

Unto the Tree of Wisdom. O ye worlds! 

Rejoice! Our Lord wended unto the Tree. 

We are nearing Benares, called by the Hindus, 
Kashi, the Splendid, and from the well-constructed 
Dufferin bridge, which spans the sacred Ganges, we 
gain our first view of the " Holy City of the Hindus, " 
with the two towering, airy minarets of the great 
Mosque of Aurangzeb. We can hear the pilgrims as 
they enter the sacred precincts, chanting a litany, a 
translation of which is, "Beloved: Victory to thee! 
Victory; Victory!" 

We learn that not less than one million pilgrims visit 
Benares annually, and over thirty thousand Brahmans, 
or priests, reside in this, perhaps the most ancient city 
of India. Every pilgrim on reaching the city must 
make the circuit on foot around the sacred territory, 
about forty-five miles, which usually occupies six days. 

Benares, the head center of Hindu and Sanskrit liter- 
ature, is one of the oldest and most esteemed sacred 
cities of the world. Twenty-five centuries ago, when 
Athens was growing in strength, Rome was unknown, 
and Jersualem was in its glory, Benares was famous. 



The Land of Wonders 



139 



Rowboats, in the early hours of the morning, carry 
us up stream, past the ghats of the sacred Ganges ; but 
that the crowds are more dense, the scenes portrayed 
are a repetition of Calcutta's Hooghly. Here the 
living Hindu quenches his thirst, cleanses his body and 
soul, and the ashes of the departed are interred. Mark 
Twain, having visited Benares some years ago, is said 




On the Ghat of the Sacred Ganges. 



to have expressed a desire to bathe in the sacred stream. 
His friends tried to dissuade him on account of the un- 
sanitary condition of the water, but their efforts proved 
inadequate, for upon examination Twain said, "The 
water is so dirty no microbes or germs can live there. " 
A depressing sight meets our gaze as we drive through 
the narrow streets lined on either side with dirty hovels, 



140 Glimpses Around the World 

about which squat starve d-looking natives with barely 
enough rags to cover their poor bodies. 

As we near the Monkey Temple, which, like all 
Hindu temples, is built square with the four cardinal 
points, wretched beggars swarm about us with out- 
stretched hands, while they utter wailing cries. Our 
bearer leads the way and we pass into the now ruined 




Monkey Temple. 

stone structure known as the Durga, or Monkey 
Temple, where dozens of apes of all sizes crowd about 
our bearer, who has purchased a plate of grain and bits 
of sugar with which to feed these sacred animals. 

Great numbers of monkeys formerly made their 
homes about Benares, and some found their way to this 
temple. The priests fed them and the monkeys in- 



The Land of Wonders 141 

creased in number. The worshiping Hindu, thinking 
these apes sacred, surrendered the entire edifice as a 
refuge for the monkeys, which, to the present day, 
enjoy the liberty of a spacious dwelling and the choicest 
of food which is provided by the worshipers. A small 
stone pillar with a little hollow in the top is the altar 
of a deity, and nearby is a cleft post, to which the 
animal to be sacrified, usually a goat, is bound. Our 
bearer tells us that every morning between eight and 
nine o'clock a goat is tied to this post by the head, and 
the sacrifice is made with one swift blow of the heavy 
knife. The head goes to the priest, while the body 
is taken away and consumed by the worshipers. No 
doubt many Hindus who would otherwise never taste 
flesh, adopt this means to get a savory meal of kid. 
Brahmans never taste meat, fish, eggs, nor, in fact, 
anything that has life. 

We should enjoy entering a Hindu dwelling, but 
remembering that all non-Hindus are considered out- 
castes, and contact with them may cause the loss of 
caste, which is all-important, we refrain. Yes; these 
people are so bigoted that if a Mohammedan or any 
non-Hindu touches any of their cooking or water- 
holding utensils, the same are immediately discarded 
as unclean and unfit for use. 

The Golden Temple is the most important in Ben- 
ares, being the center of Shiva worship. We know 
the Hindu Trinity, of which the trident is the symbol, 
consists of Brahma, the creator ; Vishnu, the preserver, 
and Shiva, the destroyer. 

We pass through crooked narrow alleys or streets and 
ascending to an upper room in a flower vender's shop, 
opposite the door Of the temple, obtain a clear view of 
the gilded roofs and crowd of worshipers in the lane 
below. 

The dome aud one spire are covered with copper 



142 



Glimpses Around the World 



plate heavily gilded. We are told that at no other 
spot in Benares can such evidences be observed of the 
vitality of idolatry, the pushing, jostling, earnest crowd 
of men and women with their hands full of suitable 
gifts, are bent on one thing only, that is, to prostrate 
themselves before and present their offerings to a 
comical black stone. 




Golden Temple. 

Following through the narrow dirty lane, we reach 
the Anna Purna, or Cow Temple, sacred to Anna 
Purna, the goddess who "fills with grain," and who 
is supposed to have undertaken the task of feeding the 
inhabitants of the city. On one occasion, finding the 
task an unusually heavy one, she became anxious about 
her clients. The Goddess Ganga (Ganges) however 
generously promised to supply each applicant with a 



The Land of Wonders 



J 43 



brass vessel full of water, if she would add a handful 
of pulse. The labor thus happily divided, the people 
of Benares are now supposed to be in no fear of want. 
In this temple are kept large numbers of cows, whose 
presence we find does not add to the cleanliness of the 
shrine. These cows are particularly sacred animals, 
and it is said worshipers may often be seen kissing 




Market Scene. 



their tails and showing other signs of reverence. Here, 
too, sits a great company of blind, halt and lame, and 
not a few sturdy vagabonds, who, we learn, reap a good 
harvest from worshipers and sightseers like ourselves. 

We pause at the Well of Knowledge, where sacred 
water is being ladled out to the devout and eager 
pilgrims. A high stone screen and canopy protect 



144 Glimpses Around the World 

the Well from the excited crowd of worshipers. Near- 
by is an image of the sacred bull with three eyes an 
important emblem of Shiva worship. If we could 
ever understand the Hindu religion, perhaps we should 




Indian Girl Cleansing her Teeth. 



understand the Hindu mind. Ah! but that, being of 
the Occident, we can never hope to do and never shall. 
We make our way to the native market, which pre- 
sents a lively and typically Oriental scene, and on foot 
we pass through several lanes lined with small shops or 
stalls, where the ornamental brass work, a specialty 



The Land of Wonders 145 

of Benares, is displayed. Small idols and the native 
lota are, perhaps, the favorite articles. 

Very few of these shopkeepers speak English, but 
with rupees and pantomime we enjoy a bit of bar- 
gaining. 

We have noticed that most of the Hindus have beau- 
tiful white teeth, and on reaching one of the main 
thoroughfares we stop to gaze at several natives who, 
squatting at the side of the road, are busily engaged 
cleansing their teeth. The brightly polished lota 
supplies the water, and a bit of twig at one end of which 
the fiber has been frayed makes an ingenious tooth 
brush. 

We return to our hotel for tiffin. How ridicu- 
lously small the eggs are, barely half the usual size. 
Coffee is served with goat's milk and sugar, which we 
find very coarse. Following a bit of friendly advice 
offered us some time ago, we have not eaten uncooked 
vegetables since we left Japan, and used only bottled 
soda-water for drinking. 

Remembering the fervent hope of every orthodox 
Hindu to die on the banks of the sacred Ganges, we 
travel on towards Cawnpore, offering a silent prayer 
that we may be granted the wish of seeing our own 
dear country again before our day of reckoning. 
From henceforth when we tell a Hindu we have visited 
Benares, the follower of Brahmanism will call down 
blessings upon our heads; we are among the most 
blessed. 

We have left the province of Bengal behind, and find 
Cawnpore, a large civil and military station, on the 
south bank of the far-famed river Ganges. Cawnpore 
suggests to our minds the dreadful mutiny of 1857, and 
the brave fight of General Wheeler, which ended in the 
cowardly massacre of a large number of European 
women and children. We make our way to the princi- 



146 



Glimpses Around the World 



pal business district, which is a center for harnesses, 
shoes and all sorts of leather goods, and to the beauti- 
ful Memorial Gardens. In the center of these gardens 
is the Well where the victims of the Bibi-garh massacre 
were buried, and here, upon a mound over the Well, we 

find the Memorial in the 
form of an octagonal 
Gothic screen designed 
by Sir Henry Yule . In 
the center of the enclo- 
sure, over the actual 
Well, is the figure of the 
Angel of the Resur- 
rection, in white 
marble, by Marochetti, 
with arms crossed on 
her breast, as if resigned 
to the Almighty Will, 
each hand holding a 
palm. We are told that 
this figure was the gift 
of Lord and Lady Can- 
ning. Over the arch 
we read, "These are 
they which came out 
of great tribulation. ' ' 
Around the screen wall, 
which marks the circle of the Well, is the legend : 

" Sacred to the perpetual Memory of a great com- 
pany of Christian people, chiefly Women and Children, 
who near this spot were cruelly murdered by the fol- 
lowers of the rebel Nana Dhundu Pant, of Bithur, and 
cast, the dying with the dead, into the Well below, 
on the XVth day of July, MDCCCLVII." 

Our faces reveal our saddened thoughts as we make 
our way back to the station and tour on to Lucknow, 




Mutiny Memorial Well. 



The Land of Wonders 147 

the fifth largest city of the Indian Empire. 

Clever terra-cotta miniature figures seem to be a 
specialty of Lucknow. We visit the Residency and 
the quarters connected with the relief of Lucknow 
during the awful mutiny. Among the many memorials 
which have been erected, we stop before one, presented 
by Lord Northbrook, to the faithful soldiers who 
shared the defense with the British, and read: 

Praise to our Indian brothers, and let the dark face have its due, 
Thanks to the kindly dark faces who fought with us faithful and true, 
Fought with the bravest among us, and drove them and smote them and 

slew, 
That ever upon the topmost roof our banner in India flew. 

Our bearer tells us the " Indian Brothers ' ' referred to, 
are the Sikh soldiers. The word Sikh is derived 
from the Sanskrit and means "a disciple." The 
Sikhs are a sect of Hindus who practice the most re- 
formed religion, believing only in one God. They 
abolish all caste distinction, and at the present day 
occupy many of the most trustworthy positions held 
by natives in the empire. 

We visit Dr. Fayer's house where the brave Sir 
Henry Lawrence died; a tablet is inscribed with the 
following : 

" Never surrender, I charge you, but every man die at his post. " 
Voice of the dead whom we loved, our Lawrence, the best of the brave ; 
Cold were his brows when we kissed him — we laid him that night in his 
grave. 

We pass on to the cemetery around the ruined 
church, where so many brave men and women and 
hapless children lie sleeping, and pausing before an 
enclosed iron railing we read; 

Here lies Henry Lawrence, 
Who tried to do his duty, 
May the Lord have mercy on his soul. 
Born 28th of June 1806. 
Died 4th of July 1857. 



148 



Glimsses Around the World 



Leaving the Residency, we view some of the ruined 
buildings and sites connected with the mutiny. 

As we pass through the city to the station, to con- 
tinue our tour by rail, we notice that the street- 
sprinklers, like the natives who served water on the 
station platform, are each carrying a goatskin filled 
with water. The neck of the skin receptacle serves as 
a nozzle, and as the native switches the bag which is 
suspended from his back, the roadway is sprinkled. 




Dhobies. 

As our train enters the Agra station of the East 
Indian Railway, our heart-beats quicken with enthusi- 
astic anticipation of the coming pleasure. To visit 
Agra, sometimes called Akbarbad, once the capital 
of the Afghan Kings of Hindustan and the seat of the 
magnificent court of. the great Mogul emperors under 
whose guidance Indian architecture reached its zenith, 
has long been one of our ideal dreams. Was it not 
Goethe who said, "Architecture is frozen music?" 



The Land of Wonders 



149 



The very atmosphere seems to breathe of artistic 
beauty in this third largest city of the United Provinces, 
As we pass through the native town we find the streets. 




Outer Gateway to the Tomb of Emperor Akbar. 



shops and people more cleanly than any we have seen 
since our arrival in India, suggestive signs of prosperity. 

The laboring washermen, or dhobies, are in active 
operation along the river bank. 

A five mile drive over a good shady road leads us to 



150 Glimpses Around the World 

Sikandarah, where the remains of Emperor Akbar the 
Great, repose in a beautiful mausoleum. 

Our carriage stops before the fine gateway of red 
sandstone inlaid with white marble in various massive 
polygonal patterns. On the top of the gateway at 
each corner rises a white minaret, These were partly 
destroyed, but recently restored under the direction of 
Lord Curzon. A broad paved path beyond this mas- 




Tomb of Emperor Akbar. 

sive gateway leads us to the pyramidal mausoleum of 
red sandstone. Here are elaborately inlaid and carved 
designs in white marble with a splendid scroll about 
a foot broad, which we are told is a copy from a chapter 
of the Koran. The blue and gold frescos of the 
vaulted ceiling in the vestibule we also find in a state 
of restoration. 



The Land of Wonders 151 

In the center of the dimly-lighted chamber is the 
costly white marble cenotaph, inlaid with precious 
stones. Two white-robed attendants enter with lighted 
lanterns and lead the way down a gentle incline to the 
dark vaulted chamber beneath, where the remains of 
the great Emperor Akbar, the Napoleon of the East, 
who died in 1605, lie in state. A feeling of awe and 
reverence creeps upon us as we enter the dark crypt. 
The radiating light from the two lanterns reveals the 
exquisite workmanship and art of the white sarcoph- 
agus. The attendants chant and the tones echo and 
re-echo with musical purity, adding even greater im- 
pressiveness to this solemn scene. 

Again on the entrance floor, we visit several of the 
side niches, which contain the remains of members of 
the royal family. We notice on the top of one tomb 
a slate or tablet has been chiseled, designating the 
grave of a wife, while on the adjoining tomb of the 
husband we recognize a pen or pencil box, known as 
kalamdan. We pause in thoughtful appreciation of 
this beautiful ancient bit of symbolism displayed by 
these so-called heathen people. 

Here is a small tomb with a trough-like top, which 
we learn belongs to an infant grandchild of Akbar. 
Our guide says, every year, on the anniversary of this 
child's death, this trough-like tomb is filled with milk 
and sugar and large numbers of poor children from 
the surrounding country on that day come and drink 
of the memorial offering. 

The mausoleum is surrounded by a well-kept garden, 
enclosed by four gates, each like the one through which 
we entered. A narrow staircase leads to an upper 
terrace, in the center of which is another splendid white 
cenotaph of the Emperor, engraved with ninety-nine 
glorious names of the Deity. We read the inscriptions, 
" Allahu Akbar; God is the greatest," and J alia 



152 Glimpses Around the World 

Jalalahu; May His glory shine." According to 
tradition the nearby marble pillar, which was once 
covered with gold, contained the Koh-i-nur, the great 
diamond which now rests in the Crown of Great Britain. 
The wind sighing through the pierced screens, seems to 
maintain a perpetual requiem over this great 
emperor. 

Our carriage is again rolling toward the city along the 
dusty road. We pass the Orphan Asylum, which, ac- 
cording to tradition, is the site where Akbar interred 
his Portuguese Christian wife, Mary. 

A few red sandstone ruins, here and there a primitive 
hut. Now we pass a tired-looking foot-traveler. 
There is a stone well with huge buckets which are 
being rilled by native women, whose drapery, though 
torn and dirty, hangs in graceful folds about their 
neglected bodies, while their huge anklets and brace- 
lets clink as they move. Several women pass, carrying 
on their heads unsightly loads of dried cakes of cow- 
dung, used as fuel. Though seemingly very poor the 
exposed brown arms and limbs of these women are 
decorated with clinking metal. Many wear toe-rings 
with little tinkling bells attached, which recall pictur- 
esquely one of our favorite nursery rhymes, " Rings on 
her fingers and bells on her toes, she shall have music 
wherever she goes. ' ' 

Yonder a caravan of camels ; riders and beasts look 
weather-beaten from a seemingly long journey. We 
halt near a group of cypress trees just in time to see a 
beautifully colored wild parrot fly by and perch upon 
an upper branch. Many huge black crows are soaring 
aloft. 

We make our way to the " Fort, " the center of the 
ancient city and the site of the palaces built by the 
Emperors Akbar and Shah Jahan. The Fort, being 
enclosed in a circuit of over a mile, is surrounded by a 



The Land of Wonders 153 

moat, and our carriage crosses the drawbridge and 
passes uniformed guards, as we enter by the Delhi 
Gate, which is ornamented at either side by large bronze 
elephants. On foot we ascend a flight of red sandstone 
steps to the Moti Masjid, or Pearl Mosque. This 
exquisitely-delicate bit of architecture, built by Shah 
Jahan, is said to have cost three hundred thousand 
rupees, about one hundred thousand dollars. The 
entire mosque of white marble is faintly tinted with 
blue and gray tones. The tout ensemble immediately 
suggests its apropos title "Pearl Mosque." In the 
center stands a large marble tank, which has been used 
for ablutions and beyond is the liwan. or mosque 
proper, which was formerly reserved for the use of the 
priests and aristocrats. 

There are no seats, but the marble floor is divided by 
a darker inlaid stone ; so each space is just large enough 
to accommodate one worshiper, who, during service, 
turns his prostrate body towards the west, in the 
direction of Mecca. 

Friday is the Sabbath, according to Mohammed, 
" the praised, ' ' whose flight from Mecca to Medina 
in 622 A. D. marks the beginning of his follower's 
calendar. We are pleased to learn that liquor, swine's 
flesh, smoking opium, and lending money on interest, 
is strictly forbidden according to the Koran, much of 
which was dictated by Mohammed. Mohamme- 
danism allows every man four wives, besides slaves, 
but he must not look upon the face of any other wo- 
man. Now we recall the white-robed person we saw 
before entering the Fort. It must have been a Mo- 
hammedan woman, though the moving mass of white 
material with only two small peek holes before the 
eyes suggested a phantom-robed domino, such as we 
have often seen at " sheet and pillow-case masquerade 
parties. ' ' We pity these poor ignorant females whose 



154 Glimpses Around the World 

faces must always be covered except in the presence of 
their own family. 

Ah, but here we are in the Fort where most of the 
interest of Agra is centered. We hardly know where 
to go first, but our bearer leads the way to the beautiful 
three-domed mosque of white marble, called the 
Naginah Masjid, or Gem Mosque, which we learn was 
the private mosque of the royal ladies of the court. 
It was built by Shah Jahan, who was afterward im- 
prisoned here by his successor Aurangzeb. We look 
beneath into the small courtyard and though all is 
quiet and forsaken now, we can easily picture this spot 
the scene of a lively bazaar where clever merchants 
displayed their attractive wares to the court ladies of 
old. 

The Diwan-i-Kas, or Hall of Private Audience, is 
a miracle of beauty with its carving and valuable 
stones inlaid in floral designs. From here we pass into 
the private mosque of the Emperor, perhaps the small- 
est in existence. It is probably best known as the 
Jesamine. Its lovely marble lattice-work seems to 
have been broken by cannon shots. 

We pass on to the Shish Mahal, or Mirror Palace, 
formerly used, we are told, as a bath-house for the 
ladies of the court. As we enter the now dingy rooms, 
our bearer lights several wax tapers and the effect 
produced is charmingly bewildering, the entire rooms 
seeming to be lined with bits of mirror arranged in 
fanciful designs. We can but try to imagine this 
glittering scene, when massive chandeliers shed their 
brilliancy, and fountains and artificial cascades were 
arranged to fall over lighted lamps. 

Again we are in the open and pass the Khas Mahal, 
which was the model for the Hall of Audience at Delhi, 
and make our way to the Golden Pavilions, so-called 
from the gilded plates of copper which cover the roof. 



The Land of Wonders 155 

Here were the ladies' apartments or harem; as we 
pass through, we notice each room has a narrow hole 
about a foot deep in the wall. We are told the ladies 
kept their jewels here ; the holes being so narrow only 
a woman's arm could withdraw their contents. The 
adjoining room overlooking the once famous Grape 
Garden was the private apartment of Shah Jahan. 
We pass into the octagonal pavilion, which is elabo- 
rately decorated in pietra dura work. The lovely 
marble screen is inlaid in precious rubies, emeralds, 
sapphires and red carnelians; many, unfortunately, 
have been pillaged. From this beautiful spot we look 
across the pale blue river Jumna and gain our first 
glimpse of the Taj Mahal, with its towering minarets 
rising in the distance. We are standing where, accord- 
ing to tradition, Shah Jahan was brought upon his 
death bed, that he might gaze for the last time upon 
the Taj which he had erected as the final resting place 
for his favorite wife. We stand as though spellbound, 
for the rays of the sun have cast a subdued shading 
upon the surrounding country, and the snowy dome 
and pinnacles of the famous mausoleum stand in bold 
relief in the distance. 

Though most of the architectural masterpieces we 
have visited in the Fort were erected by Shah Jahan, 
we now turn to the beautiful red sandstone palace 
which Emperor Akbar erected as a residence for his 
Hindu wife. The design of the grand central court, 
its pillars and the quaint ornamentation of great 
dragons about the ceiling, are all pure Hindu ; indeed, 
for minute and exquisite ornamental carving in stone, 
this structure is recognized as preeminent. Redupli- 
cation seems to be the keynote of Hindu art. Some of 
the chambers are lined with stucco and from their 
present state of preservation we judge it has withstood 
the wear of centuries better than the stone work. 



156 



Glimpses Around the World 



Before we can realize what has happened we have 
left the wealth of beauty and interest of the Agra Fort 
behind. A twenty-minutes' drive, during which time 
we cross the pontoon bridge, which spans the Jumna 
River, and we reach the Mausoleum of Itimad-ud- 
daulah, or tomb of the grandfather of Lady Taj. 




Tomb of Itimad-ud-daulah. 



A lovely garden surrounds this, perhaps the most 
delicately beautiful of all the structures in Agra. 
Someone has compared it to an exquisite bit of jewelry, 
which should be enclosed in a jewel case. Made of 
extremely fine carved, white marble it suggests to our 
minds a delicate piece of lacework. We wonder if 
anything can be more beautiful than this — but yet 
we have not seen the Taj Mahal. The inlay work here 
is said to be the earliest known specimen in India, and 
bears the date 1628 A. D. Here, as at the tomb of 
Akbar, we are permitted to descend the dark passage 



The Land of Wonders 



1 57 



to the crypt below, and as we pass before the sarcoph- 
agus, an attending guard presents each of us with one 
sugar-covered cardamom seed, as a souvenir, as he 
smilingly bows his acknowledged thanks for backshish. 

India was perhaps the first of all countries that per- 
fected weaving, and we stop before a carpet-factory to 
see some five hundred emaciated children, mostly boys, 
sitting on rough benches in a poorly-lighted and badly- 
ventilated room. We watch the little hands inces- 
santly working at the looms, where rugs and carpets of 
a good grade are being produced. The manager tells 
us, " these hands are paid according to the rapidity of 
their labor, which is on an average of two pice, one 
cent a day. ' ' In viewing goods in the exhibition room, 
we marvel at the high prices charged, which would 
indicate that large profits are made by all except the 
child-laborers. 

The slanting rays of the afternoon sun give perhaps 
the best view of the architectural masterpiece of every 
age, and we drive to the famous Taj Mahal, or Crown 
Ladies' Tomb. It was built, we remember, by Em- 
peror Shah Jahan for his favorite queen, Mumtaz- 
i-Mahal, or Chosen of the Palace, who died during 
accouchement in 1629. Though begun in 1630 A. D., 
twenty-two years were required for its completion, at a 
cost, some claim, of 31,748,026 rupees, equal to about 
ten and one-half million dollars. It is uncertain who 
was the principal architect, but Austin of Bordeaux 
was in the Emperor's service at that time and it is likely 
he took part in the decoration. 

Our carriage halts before the outer red sandstone 
gate, which Mr. Fergusson says, "is a worthy pendant 
to the Taj itself, " and which bears the date 1648. It 
is ornamented with inscriptions in Arabic from the 
Koran. 

Passing through this great gateway we reach the 



158 Glimpses Around the World 

garden, and behold the Taj in all its splendor. It is so 
beautiful we can hardly breathe for rapture. It can- 
not be a building, we whisper ; it is enchantment. 

The marble water-course leading from the main en- 
trance to the Taj Mahal is lined on either side with 
small cypress trees. About midway a marble platform 
has been erected, upon which benches have been placed. 
Here we sit enjoying every change of light of the rapidly 




Outer Gate of Taj Mahal. 

sinking sun, which seems to lend new grace to this — 
which ranks first among the purely decorative forms 
of architectural design. Now we realize the zenith has 
been reached, and that all the other beautiful sights 
of Agra have been but as stepping-stones to prepare 
us for the Taj Mahal. As the tout ensemble seems 
perfection, so is every point in detail. 

We mount the marble platform on which the tomb 
stands. All is built of the purest Jaipur marble. At 



The Land of Wonders 



159 



each corner is a towering white marble minaret, about 
one hundred and thirty-seven feet high. We make 
our way into the center of the tomb, a mellow-lighted 
octagonal chamber, which is surrounded by lacy white 
marble screens elaborately inlaid with precious stones. 
This is recognized as "the most exquisite example of 




Taj 



the great characteristic style of the Moguls after the 
death of Akbar. " 

Look! we are standing beside the cenotaphs of 
Mumtaz-i-Mahal and Shah Jahan. The inscriptions 
if translated read thus " The resplendent grave of 
Arjmand Banu Begam, called Mumtaz-i-Mahal, de- 
ceased in 1040. " 

"The famous grave of his Imperial Highness, the 



160 Glimpses Around the World 

resident of Paradise, the second Alexander, Lord of 
the two horns, King Shah Jahan. May his grave be 
fragrant. " 

Yes, here are the fresh white blossoms strewn upon 
the tombs, in keeping with the inscription. 

These, however, as is usual in Indian sepulchers, 
are not the true tombs, for the bodies, according to the 
Mohammedan faith, must lie level with the surface 




Interior, Marble Screen of Taj Mahal. 



of the ground, and therefore the ashes repose in plainer 
tombs, exactly below these which we are viewing. 
Above us rises the splendid massive dome, eighty feet 
from the pavement. One of our party chants, and the 
reechoing tones sound as though a choir was being 
accompanied by the pealing of a massive pipe-organ — 
truly a fitting requiem and one which suggests Elysium. 
We gaze from one point to another, evermore conscious 
of the exquisite beauty and symmetry of this unrivaled 



The Land of Wonders 161 

wonder of the world. It has been well said, "Agra 
is the mirror of Shah Jahan. In vain we flounder 
amid epithets, for to describe the Taj Mahal one must 
possess genius equal to him who built it. " 

Now we can fully appreciate the maxim " The Moguls 
designed like Titans and finished like jewelers. ' ' 
Reluctantly we take our leave of this " dream in mar- 
ble, " and offer our thanks to the most magnificent of 
all the royal builders of India, Shah Jahan. 

Again our carriage is rolling along the narrow streets 
of the native district. We pass what looks like a circus 
parade; gay colored cloths, and papers trimmed with 
tinsel, tinkling of bells, people in fancy costumes and 
several decorated native pony-carts called jhatkas. 
In one cart, surrounded by several people, sits a young 
man whose face is covered with a golden mask. 
Through inquiry we learn that this is a marriage pro- 
cession, and the masker, a fourteen-year-old groom, is 
on his way to the home of his bride who is perhaps two 
years his junior. As is customary the parents of the 
contracting parties have arranged this matrimonial 
question when these mere children were babes. Surely 
such premature nuptials are a curse. 

Lack of time prevents us from driving to the royal 
but long-deserted city of Fatehpur Sikri, which lies 
about twenty miles southwest. It was designed by 
Emperor Akbar as a new capital, but owing to its un- 
healthful surroundings, was soon deserted by the Great 
Mogul and his court. 

Though we have been served by our private bearer, 
on leaving the hotel at Agra we are surrounded by 
some half a dozen saluting and bowing servants, who 
unhesitatingly ask, "Master! backshish;" after each 
and all are presented with coins, one recipient again 
extends his hand toward our carriage and pleadingly 
says, "Master, I have a brother." Though we have 



162 Glimpses Around the World 

never seen the member of the family to whom he refers, 
a fee must be contributed before the noisy crowd is 
satisfied, and the coachman will drive us to the station. 

Yellow blossoming mustard fields help to relieve 
the barren stretch of country en route to Delhi, the 
Rome of India, the site of the old Mogul capital, and 
now a large fortified city, which is the civil headquar- 
ters of the district under the Punjab Government. As 
we enter the city by the Kashmir Gate, which is marked 
by a memorial tablet, we recall that the principal 
events of the great mutiny of the Bengal army in 1857 
were centered around Delhi. 

We make our way to the principal business street, 
Chandni Chauk, which is famous for its jewelers, silver- 
smiths and embroiderers. We find a broad avenue 
divided by a central walk, well shaded by large deodar 
trees. Small but attractive shops line the farther sides 
of the road, which now presents a lively business scene. 

"Shell-bracelets ho! Shell- bracelets ho! 

Fair maids and matrons come and buy!" 
Along the road, in morning's glow, 

The pedler raised his wonted cry. 
The road ran straight, a red, red line, 

To Khirogram, for cream renowned, 
Through pasture-meadows where the kine, 

In knee-deep grass, stood magic bound 
And half awake, involved in mist, 

That floated in dun coils profound, 
Till by the sudden sunbeams kissed 

Rich rainbow hues broke all around. 

"Shell-bracelets ho! See, maiden, see! 

The rich enamel sunbeam kissed ! 
Happy, oh happy, shalt thou be, 

Let them but clasp that slender wrist ; 
These bracelets are a mighty charm, 

They keep a lover ever true, 
And widowhood avert, and harm, 

Buy them, and thou shalt never rue, 
Just try them on!" — She stretched her hand, 

"Oh what a nice and lovely fit! 
No fairer hand, in all the land, 

And lo! the bracelet matches it." 

Jogadhya Uma, Ballads of Hindostan. 



The Land of Wonders 



163 



As we pass along turban-headed merchants speaking 
English, invite us in a most gracious, hospitable manner 
to call and see their display of costly wares, shawls, fili- 
gree ornaments, gold and silver tissues, marriage-boxes, 
cunning work in woods, and the innumerable curios 
which are manufactured by Delhi's famous art-workers. 

We are, however, attracted to a native group, and 
pause before a small booth, where tawdry jewelry is 




Indian Merchant's Shop. 

being sold. From the general aspect we judge this 
to be a bargain counter. Hindu women who, in this 
respect perhaps resemble their fairer sisters of the 
Occident, are busily engaged bargaining for huge 
silvery looking anklets, bracelets, ear-rings toe-rings 
and nose-rings with which to adorn themselves. 
Though many look as though they were in need of the 
actual necessities of life, they spend their pice and 
annas, if not rupees, upon this mass of clinking metal. 



1 64 Glimpses Around the World 

" I can get along without necessities, but I must have 
luxuries, " is no mere witty paradox in India. It is 
hard, practical common sense. To sell a nose-ring for 
a dress would be to an Indian woman a far wilder freak 
of insanity, than for one of our American women to sell 
her dress for a nose-ring. The nose, ears, wrists, ankles 
and toes of these poor, half-fed women are the only 
savings bank they know, where they can store away 
their ancestral inheritance and hard-earned savings 
for their children. 

Even starvation will rarely induce them to break in 
upon this sacred hoard, though they, with a family of a 
half a dozen, are living on what equals two American 
dollars a month. 

We fix our gaze upon one busy shopper. She stands 
about five feet high, of course barefooted, with three 
silvery hoops about each ankle, though she has been 
contemplating buying more ornamentation. Her 
shabby chadar, or outer robe, is of black and artis- 
tically wound about her limbs, body and over the back 
of her head. Her ears are not only decorated with 
one pair of hoop ear-rings, but are pierced all around 
the outer cartilage with small silvery rings. A thin 
gilt wire circle, which perhaps measures two and one- 
half inches in diameter, pierces the cartilage which 
separates the nostrils, and hangs below her mouth. 
Several bracelets decorate her shapely arms, while 
on her hip straddles a cooing babe. This scantily- 
clad mite looks quite disfigured, for a mass of some 
black substance, perhaps charcoal, has been smeared 
around its eyes. This treatment we are told is a pre- 
ventive of infection, or as our German friend said, "see- 
sickness. ' ' The little one is also ornamented with tiny 
anklets, bracelets, and colored bead necklaces. Here a 
young woman is sitting on the ground, while a shop- 
keeper is busy fitting silvery rings on her toes ; yonder, 



The Land of Wonders 165 

scribes and story-tellers are sitting in the market-place, 
surrounded by circles of attentive listeners. 

Enthused by the architectural beauty of Agra, let us 
pass on and make our way to the Delhi Fort, which 
is built in the form of a parallelogram and is now used 
as the city barracks. We enter through the well con- 
structed Lahore Gate and pass on to the splendid Hall 
of Public Audience, Diwan-i-am. The proportions 
of this hall, its columns and arches are extremely 
beautiful, and so far as the expression of power goes, 
it is probably the finest of all the Mogul works of the 
class. A raised recess is all we can now see of the 
once famous "Peacock Throne," which was carried to 
Persia, by Nadir Shah. From the following descrip- 
tion, taken from a " Guide of Delhi, ' ' we can try to form 
an idea of its costly gorgeousness : "The Peacock 
Throne, so-called from its having the figures of two 
peacocks standing behind it, their tails being expanded, 
and the whole so inlaid with sapphires, rubies, emeralds, 
pearls and other precious stones of appropriate colors, 
as to represent life. The throne itself was six feet 
long by four feet broad. It stood on six massive feet, 
which, with the body, were of solid gold, inlaid with 
rubies, emeralds and diamonds. It was surmounted 
by a canopy of gold, supported by twelve pillars all 
richly emblazoned with costly gems, and a fringe of 
pearls ornamented the border of the canopy. Between 
the two peacocks stood the figure of a parrot of the 
ordinary size, said to have been carved out of a single 
emerald. On either side of the throne stood an um- 
brella, one of the Oriental emblems of royalty. They 
were formed of crimson velvet, richly embroidered and 
fringed with pearls, the handles were eight feet high, 
of solid gold and studded with diamonds. ' ' 

This sounds like a fairy tale, yet such was " the 
wealth of the Indies. ' ' 



166 Glimpses Around the World 

We pass into the Diwan-i-Khas, or Hall of Private 
Audience, one of the most graceful and elegant build- 
ings in the world. It measures ninety feet by sixty- 
seven feet, built wholly of white marble and inlaid with 
precious stones. The ceiling, once of silver, was re- 
moved by the Jats and later restored in wood. Here 
on the outer arches we read the famous Persian inscrip- 
tion, which translated is, " If heaven can be on the 
face of the earth, it is this, Oh ! it is this. Oh ! it is this. ' ' 

We recall many historical events which have taken 
place here. The last event of importance being in 
January, 1903, when Their Majesties Edward and 
Alexandra were crowned by proxy of Lord and Lady 
Curzon. The attending guides take great pleasure in 
describing the occasion of the Durbar, for they were 
eye-witnesses. As we look about, some of our party 
consider this hall too elaborately decorated, which 
weakens its artistic beauty. Perhaps this is true, for 
was it not William Morris who said, "Art was not 
born in a palace, it was taken sick there. " Adjoining 
this Private Hall of Audience, we are shown what were 
formerly the royal private apartments. Here we 
find the choicest bit of decoration now in Delhi. It is 
an alabaster paneled screen with a representation of 
the heavens around the scales of justice. 

The Moti Masjid, or Pearl Mosque, though beautiful, 
is not as lovely as the one we saw in Agra. It was built 
by the son and usurper of Shah Jahan, Aurangzeb, 
who imprisoned his good father in the Fort at Agra, 
where the Emperor Shah Jahan 's beloved and dutiful 
unmarried daughter, Jahanara, shared her father's 
captivity that she might be a comfort to him. Most 
of the other buildings in the Fort are now in ruins. 

It is interesting to think that when the splendors 
of Delhi's Fort were being erected, the Pilgrim Fathers 
had just begun to build on our shores. 




55 

> 

< 



The Land of Wonders 



169 



We next visit the nearby Jumna Musjid, which is 
said to be the finest Mohammedan mosque of the 
world, and one of the few in India, or elsewhere, that 
are designed to produce a pleasing effect externally. 




Marble Screen, Representing Scale of Justice 
in Delhi's Fort. 

As of old the main gateway was opened only for the 
Mogul Emperor, so now it is open only for the Viceroy 
of India and the Lieutenant Governor of the Panjab. 
We pass through a side entrance and find ourselves in 



170 Glimpses Around the World 

the stately quadrangle, with a marble basin in the 
center. We are told that this court is crowded on 
Friday ,at " Prayer Meeting. " 

Before we are allowed to enter the mosque, we are 
obliged to slip felt covers over our shoes. Several at- 
tending priests follow us about the place of worship, 
and finally lead us through an adjoining court to the 
entrance of a pavilion. With pompous ceremony an 
attendant appears with a huge key and unlocking the 
doors before which we stand, he bows and enters this 







SssSIsS™' 




Jumna Musjid, Delhi. 

shrine. A few minutes later he returns to the entrance, 
holding in both hands a large glass-covered case. We 
are curious to see what this sacred thing may be, and 
to our amazement discover one coarse red hair, about 
three inches in length, which our bearer tells us be- 
longed to the beard of the Prophet Mohammed. 

1 After we have seen the relic again replaced with 
appropriate ceremony, and the doors of the shrine 
securely fastened, we show our appreciation with a gen- 
erous donation of backshish and pass on. 



The Land of Wonders 



171 



Our carriage winds in and out of narrow, foul-smel- 
ling lanes, which become so narrow we are obliged to 
leave the conveyance and make our way on foot. Can 
our bearer have mistaken his way ? What can we find 




Depository of the Sacred Hair of Mohammed's Beard. 



in this district but poverty and disgusting filth ? Sud- 
denly the guide halts before a long flight of narrow stone 
stairs, which we reluctantly ascend and on reaching the 
top we find to our surprise that we are entering a marble 



172 Glimpses Around the World 

court, which belongs to a beautiful old Jain Temple, 
whose rich gilt ceiling and walls are at present being re- 
stored. We stop to admire the exquisite workmanship 
of a small idol which we find seated under an elaborate 
canopy of ivory. We are astonished to find such splen- 
dor in this remote corner. 

About a ten-mile drive leads us to "Delhi's Glory," 
the Kutab Minar, situated in the midst of the ruins of 
the original city of Delhi. En route we pass the tomb 
of the poet Khoosru, whose songs are perhaps the most 
popular in all India. We find the grave adorned with 
fresh blossoms and foliage, for the poor natives still 
revere his memory. Another old tomb which attracts 
our attention is said to be the resting place of the good 
and beautiful Begum Jahanara. As we learn the 
meaning of the engraved inscription on the tomb 
which she requested to be placed here, we pause in 
admiration of this noble-minded soul. The inscription 
reads, 

"Let no rich canopy adorn my grave; the grass is 
the best covering for the tomb of the humble, the poor 
in spirit, the fleeting Jahanara, pupil of the fakirs, the 
daughter of the Emperor Shah Jahan. " A fakir is 
a religious Mohammedan who has taken a vow of 
poverty. 

We reach. the Kutab enclosure and find the Kuwat 
ul Islam Mosque, though now a mass of ruins, mag- 
nificent. It is said to still be unrivaled for its grand line 
of gigantic arches, and for the graceful beauty of the 
flowered tracery, which covers its walls. In the grand 
square of the mosque stands the Iron Pillar, which 
General Cunningham says, "is one of the most curious 
monuments of India. " As we view it we agree with 
the General that curious is the correct description of 
the pillar. It seems to be made of a solid shaft of mixed 
metal, about sixteen inches in diameter and perhaps 



The Land of Wonders 



i7, 



fifty feet in length, though only twenty-two feet stand 
above ground. Archaeologists claim this column, as a 
wonderful fragment of antiquity, dating from the third 
or fourth century after Christ. A deeply-cut Sanskrit 
inscription rec- 



ords its history , 
which has been 
translated as, 
"The arm of 
fame of Ra- 
jah Dhava. ' ' 
Among these 
ruins of the 
original city of 
Delhi stands a 
tower of vic- 
tory, which we 
recognize to be 
the grand 
monument of 
Kutab Minar, 
better known 
as Delhi 's 
Glory, the 
highest pillar 
of the old 
world. It is 
said to have 
taken nearly 
one hundred 
and fifty years 
in building and was completed about 1235 A D. 

Though, no doubt, commenced by a Hindu rajah, the 
glory of its completion rests with the Mohammedan 
conquerors. The tapering pillar rises to a height of 
about two hundred and forty feet, in a succession of 




Kutab Minar. 



174 Glimpses Around the World 

five stories; the three lowest being red sandstone, and 
the upper two, white marble. The honey-comb orna- 
mentation about the lower balconies, reminds us of the 
decoration we have seen on pictures of the Alhambra. 

We next drive to the Memorial Monument, erected 
to the brave men who died in the effort to capture 
and hold Delhi. It is said that every officer and man 
in the British Army, contributed a day's pay towards 
the erection of this Gothic spire. Though well situ- 
ated the monument is not satisfactory. 

Gathered around an open grate fire, in a home-like 
drawing room at the hotel, we spend a pleasant evening, 
visiting with a well-known English chaplain and his 
charming wife, who have lived in India for many years. 
Their reference to the excellent missionary work, 
especially that done by the Americans in the Punjab 
district, is gratifying to us. We regret that we can- 
not visit Simla, and the Sutly Valley in the proper 
season, for through Kipling's attractively told " Tales, " 
we have learned to know and love the beautiful summer 
capital of India. 

We turn our course to the south and visit Jaipur, the 
modern capital of the territory, and residency of the 
present chief H. H. Maharaja Dhiraj Siwai. We find 
the long, wide, straight streets of Jaipur bordered with 
rose-red temples, palaces, houses, towers and pavilions; 
in fact as far as our eyes can reach, we see a brilliant 
pinkish glow which suggests frank joy, and unlike 
the other Oriental cities we have visited, here seems 
to be no deep shade, no mystery, no romance. Indeed, 
the very air we breathe imbues us with the light- 
hearted atmosphere of this alluring city of the Rajahs. 
Here we are in the midst of a multi-colored swarm of 
smiling, care -free men and women wearing garlands of 
flowers as they throng the sidewalks, while the children, 
gaily bedecked with beads, play in the doorways. 



The Land of Wonders 



i75 



Yonder wise, solemn, gray-headed monkeys flock on 
the roofs and the most gorgeous tame wild peacocks 
we have ever seen strut basking in the glorious sun- 
shine. From our elevated position on the back of a 
faithful elephant, we catch a glimpse of the Maharaja's 
palace with its beautiful gardens. 

We obtain permission to visit the ancient capital 




Street Scene in Jaipur. 



Amber, or Ambar, seven miles distant, and en route 
pause at the Hall of the Winds, a fantastic structure, 
considered a chef d'ceuvres. The picturesque situ- 
ation of Amber at the mouth of a rocky mountain 
gorge, attracts our attention. Founded by Minas, this 
was a nourishing capital about 967. The interior 
arrangements of the old palace are excellent, and 



176 Glimpses Around the World 

" though it lacks the fresh and vigorous stamp of Hindu 
originality, which characterizes earlier buildings, the 
ornamentation and technical details are free from 
feebleness." In the rajah's own apartments is the 
Hall of Victory, adorned with inlaid and decorated 
alabaster panels, the roof glittering with the mirrored 




A Railroad Station En Route to Bombay. 



and spangled work for which Jaipur is renowned. 
Most of the nearby temples are in ruins. 

Returning to the city we find our railway carriage 
has been engaged, and so we continue to travel south, 
wondering if we have been dreaming, or have just 
attended a spectacular performance, where flashing 
jewels, tossing feathers, and embroidered robes have 
dazzled our eyes. No, this was no fancy, for the 



The Land of Wonders 177 

streets of Jaipur are really trod by proud steeds bear- 
ing rajahs, just as we have really traveled slowly 
through them on the backs of our faithful elephants. 

An all-day -ride, and we change cars at Allahabah, 
then another night spent in our traveling compart- 
ment, where with our own bedding we have learned to 
make ourselves comfortable, lands us in the bewitching 
city of Bombay. 

The approach to the Central Railway Station, re- 
sembles that of all large cities, and a cab conveys us 
to the Taj Mahal Palace Hotel, which we find the most 
modern hospice of the Orient. After a refreshing 
tiffin of deliciously prepared curry and rice, for which 
we have cultivated a great liking, we saunter to the 
Esplanade, a beautiful, wide thoroughfare lined on 
either side with imposing European structures. Trams 
and cabs add to this modern picture, while in contrast 
we pause to notice the curiously robed natives. 

We remember that most of the influential Bombay 
merchants are Parsees, who formerly inhabited Persia. 
They are recognized as an educated, energetic, rich 
and charitable community. Yes, these are the men 
with intellectual faces. Though their trousers and 
ill-fitting coats are of dark-colored material they wear 
an unusual head-dress. We wonder what protection 
these tall, brightly- colored, sloping, brimless hats can 
be in this tropical sunshine. The heat seems so op- 
pressive we seek shelter in the well-appointed lounging 
rooms of the hotel. 

One of the literary members of our party asks an 
English-speaking clerk the location of Mr. Kipling's 
home ; the clerk looks puzzled, inquires again the name 
of the party in question, to which our friend replies by 
writing the name of Mr. Rudyard Kipling on a piece of 
paper. The following day, our literary member is 
notified by the same clerk that due investigations have 



178 Glimpses Around the World 

been made at the police headquarters, but the gentle- 
man friend for whom enquiry is made is not known 
and seemingly does not live in Bombay. 

At sunset, the hour of the evening drive, we find the 
Esplanade gay with elegant turnouts of the Europeans 
and rich natives. The Parsee women are refined 
looking and educated. Delicately-tinted silk drapery, 
five yards long and about one and one-half yards wide, 
known as sarin, is artistically wound about the limbs 
and body and drawn over the back of the head, while 
elegant jewels complete the toilet. 

The city wears its holiday attire, for the Amir of 
Afghanistan is paying a friendly visit here, and to-night 
his electrical illuminated fleet, lying in the harbor, 
presents an unusually picturesque sight. 

We decide that the morning hours will be the most 
advantageous for sight-seeing. En route to the native 
quarter, we pay a visit to the Crawford Market, where 
we find fish, flesh, vegetables, flowers, fruit, and general 
commodities all kept in admirable order and cleanliness. 

We are especially interested in the stalls where the 
leaves of the Piper betel, or Pan as the natives call 
it, are sold. Several squatting Hindu coolie women 
are busily engaged in preparing this favorite delicacy, 
and we pause to watch them spreading the leaves with 
lime and then rolling it about a bit of the Areca palm. 
We promptly recall how often we have observed natives 
whose black teeth and very red lips are caused by the 
chewing of this preparation. 

The crowds are dense and the hubbub deafening 
as we make our way out and beyond into the native 
city whose streets have been described as "a tulip 
garden of vermilion, crimson, orange and flame-colored 
turbans, of men in blue and brown and emerald garbs; 
of women in cherry-colored satin and blazing purple 
or green, where scarlets and yellows quiver in the 



The Land of Wonders 



79 



vertical sun and where brown legs and arms shine like 
bronze and amber. ' ' This is certainly a cosmopolitan 
crowd, that streams through the narrow streets and 
bazaars. Some of the fronts of the houses are covered 
with carving, and often roofed with palms. Here and 
there are gaudily painted mosques and Hindu temples. 
If we could but understand all the passers by, we would 
indeed be linguists, for not less than forty different 
languages may be heard in this motley crowd. 

Here, at the side of the road, squats a barber shaving 
his patron, there a letter- writer kneels hard at work; 
several coolie carriers run along with huge bundles 
poised on the end of long poles, bowing worshipers 
heap sacred images with sweet flowers, shouting voices 
suddenly clear the roadway to let an ancient wagon 
drawn by bullocks pass, now and then a sedan-chair 
or a palanquin is visible above the surging mass. We 
see ash-strewn beggars, such as we remember first 
encountering in Japan, and here, in the midst of this 
ever-changing open air picture, exquisite gold and silver 
ornaments are being created, while carvers keep the 
air fragrant with the dust of odorous woods. We 
decide that Bombay is a city in which to linger. 

We make our way to Malabar Hill, to view the five 
cylinder-shaped, white -washed Towers of Silence, 
where the Parsees dispose of their dead. 

Our bearer tells us that at a Parsee funeral the bier 
is carried up a flight of eighty steps to a gateway in an 
inner wall of one of these towers. The " carriers of the 
dead" are followed by two bearded men and the 
mourners in white robes, who walk two and two in 
procession, having their clothes linked together, for 
some mystic reason. The bearded men are the only 
persons to enter the tower, the interior plan of which 
resembles a circular gridiron, with a well in the center. 
The bodies of adult males are laid in the outer series of 



ISO 



Glimpses Around the World 



compartments, the women in the middle series, and the 
children in that nearest the well. The corpse is placed 
in the groove quite naked, and, we are told, in half an 
hour the flesh is completely devoured by the numerous 
vultures that inhabit the surrounding trees. The 
remaining skeleton is left to bleach in the sun and wind, 
until it becomes perfectly dry, when the gloved car- 




Parsees' Tower of Silence. 



riers, with tongs, cast the bones into the well, where 
they crumble into dust. We ask, "but why this 
singular mode of interment of a people of seemingly 
modern education and progressive thought?" Ah! 
our bearer smiles, and says, " Fire is too highly re- 
garded by Parsees for them to allow it to be polluted 
by burning the dead, as does the Hindu. Water is 



The Land of Wonders 



181 



almost equally respected, and so is earth ; besides, rich 
and poor must meet in death, which method they carry 
out in throwing all ashes into the well. We see the 
house of prayer, surrounded by tapering cypresses, 
where the mourners can sit and meditate. Indeed, 
nothing repulsive is visible, and perhaps it is possible 
for us to overcome sentiment, and gradually under- 
stand the justification of this practice of the Parsee 
faith. 

With a steam launch under the direction of Thomas 
Cook and Son, we visit the island of Elephanta, 
called by the natives Gharapuri, or the town of the 
rock. On landing we find low bushes and palms 
stretched over two hills and valley. Nearby a mass 
of rock cut into the shape of an elephant no doubt 
suggested the present name of the island to Euro- 
peans. Ascending several steps, we enter the main 
entrance of the caves, which were probably origi- 
nally intended for hermitages of Buddhists. How 
curious it all seems! We notice the square -based 
columns with fluted necks, the many queer mutilated 
shrines and large stone figures dedicated to, or repre- 
sentative of Shiva. We regret not being able to 
visit these ancient symbolic monuments many times; 
to learn their meaning and become familiar with 
the legends, but we travelers, like city tramps, must 
move on. 

Again on the mainland, we drive to the spacious Vic- 
toria Gardens, past the museum and the imposing 
Victoria Railroad Station, through which we entered 
the city, and finally make our way to the shopping 
district. We find most attractive native shops just 
off the Esplanade. It is a great temptation to invest 
every rupee we possess in the attractive souvenirs. 
One of our party buys a small gold charm, one side 
of which is decorated with a red enameled footprint, 



182 Glimpses Around the World 

which our suave native tells us is "God's footprint, 
and will always bring its owner much good luck. ' ' 

We visit the University, to learn that Bombay 
possesses one of the five institutions of higher learning 
in India. A recent total estimate claims that over one 
thousand two hundred students pass out yearly with 
degrees. In India the Parsees rank first in education, 




Bombay Merchant. 



then Jains, Buddhists, Christians, Hindus, and lastly 
Mohammedans; in fact, there are about sixty-eight 
males and seven females in every ten thousand inhabi- 
tants who can read and write English. 

Baggage transferred in advance, we reluctantly take 
our leave of one of the most progressive of Oriental 
cities. We drive to Ballard's Pier, to meet some delay 



The Land of Wonders 183 

owing to the recent report of plague raging in Bombay. 
We, the outgoing passengers, are obliged to pass an 
individual medical examination ; one by one, like school 
children, we pass through an office at the wharf, where 
a wise-looking health official looks at each tongue, and 
feels each pulse, after which we are presented with 
certificates admitting us to the launches. After a 
three-mile trip we are allowed to board the steamship 
Egypt ; one of the best P. and O. Liners plying between 
India and England. 

From our elevated position on promenade deck, 
with our eyes riveted on Bombay's beautiful harbor, 
we take our lingering farewell of the historically en- 
chanting Indian Empire. u India, the land of wonders, 
of inconceivable splendor and indescribable suffering, 
justly celebrated during many ages for its riches of 
invaluable natural productions, beautiful manufactures, 
costly merchandise and the early civilization of its 
people. India, the country of a hundred nations and 
a hundred tongues, of a thousand religions and two 
million gods — cradle of the human race — birthplace 
of human speech — mother of history, grandmother of 
legend, great-grandmother of tradition. The one sole 
country under the sun that is endowed with an im- 
perishable interest for alien prince and alien peasant. " 

With what infinitely vivid interest we read these 
beautiful lines from Edwin Arnold's "Light of Asia:" 

Forth fared then by the common way afoot 

Seeing the glad and sad things of the town; 

The painted streets alive with hum of noon, 

The traders cross-legged, mid ' their spice and grain. 

The buyers with their money in their cloth, 

The war of words to cheapen this or that, 

The shout to clear the road, the huge stone wheels, 

The strong slow oxen, and their rustling roads. 

The singing bearers with their palanquins, 

The broad-necked hamals sweating in the sun, 

The housewives bearing water from the well 

With balanced chatties and athwart their hips 

The black-eyed babes, the fly-swarmed sweetmeat shops, 



1 84 Glimpses Around the World 

The weaver at his loom, the cotton bow 

Twangling, the mill-stones grinding meal, the dogs 

Prowling for orts. Here a throng 

Gathering to watch some chattering snake-tamer 

Wind round his wrist the living jewelry 

Of asp and nag, or charm the hooded death 

To angry dance, to drone of headed gourd; 

There a long line of drums, and horns which went 

With steeds gay painted, and silk canopies, 

To bring the young bride home, and here a wife 

Stealing with cakes and garlands to the god 

To pray her husband's safe return .from trade 

Or beg a boy next birth, hard by the booths 

Where the swart potters beat the noisy brass 

For lamps and lotus, thence by temple walls 

And gateways, to the river. 




Indian Women Grinding Corn. 

Welcoming music of a cornet announces that tif- 
fin is being served, and we, recovering from our 
reverie, follow the many passengers, who are mostly 
English, to the spacious dining salon. The swinging 
punka comforts us with a breeze while the Indian 
waiters serve our meal in courses regulated by the 
tapping of a bell. We can feel the vibrations of the 



The Land of Wonders 185 

machinery and know that the anchor has been raised, 
and we are now en route to African shores. 

Again the uneventful sea life holds sway. Soothing, 
balmy breezes make life on deck a comfort as we prome- 
nade or recline in steamer chairs which we purchased 
before leaving Hongkong. The P. and O. Liners 
furnish no comfortable deck chairs. As we glance 
over the list of passengers we notice that "Lord" and 
"Lady, ' ' precedes many of the names, though, from the 
manner of the majority of passengers, we are in 
doubt as to where the label should be adjusted. An 
elderly English woman conspicuous for her uncomely 
appearance, we learn is a leader in woman's suffrage. 
She is just returning from a trip to India, having 
looked after the interests of the daughters of darkness. 

A group of young American millionaires and heir- 
esses, with a becoming chaperon, are circling the 
globe, as a finishing touch to their education. The 
young ladies of this party are attracting the attention 
of several English noblemen who, after a season's 
employment in the British Government, are now en 
route "home to London on a holiday. " 

A few progressive Orientalists, some loyal to their 
native costume, others in civil dress, are bound for the 
European Continent in the interest of business. One, 
whose head is always covered with a tarboosh, 
or red fez cap, asks the captain to introduce him to our 
party. He says, " I wish to speak with the wonder- 
ful people whom I hear are really going around the 
world, only for the sake of seeing what there is to see. ' ' 
He is courteous when we converse with him, but he 
does not remove his head-dress even in the presence 
of the ladies. 

We find it interesting to listen to the experiences 
told by a dear, old New England couple who for twenty- 
five years have patiently served as missionaries in the 



186 Glimpses Around the World 

heathen lands. They are now going home to 
rest. 

Tucker Booth, the Salvation Army leader, and his 
faithful wife are aboard. Though traveling second 
cabin, they assist in conducting church services Sunday 
morning, in the first cabin dining salon. 

Several European merchants, with cunning fore- 




On Board Steamship Egypt En Route to African Shores. 



sight, expect to amass a fortune upon their return home 
by selling their collection of valued articles to less 
adventurous lovers of Oriental finery. 

One of the observing members of our party enquires, 
why are there no flirtations on board this steamship 
Egypt ? Perhaps this is due to the fact that all the 
mails (males) are bagged. 



The Land of Wonders 187 

After four-days' steaming in the Arabian Sea the 
Island of Socotra, another link in the possession of 
Great Britain, is sighted, and at dusk on the fifth day, 
the lights of the city of Aden are visible. Aden, the 
Gibraltar of the Orient, called by Sir Edwin Arnold, 
"a cinder hole so ugly and useful." 

" Arabia, the immemorial home of the Semitic tribes, 
that land of sand and mountain and fertile valley, 
land of changeless culture and tradition, so near the 
centers of civilization, and yet still the most inac- 
cessible, the least known portion of the inhabited earth. ' ' 

If we were faithful Mohammedans, we would no 
doubt now disembark and make our pilgrimage some 
seventy miles inland to Mecca, for we know the Ara- 
bian capital is the most sacred city in the Mohammedan 
world, the birthplace of Mohammed and the site of 
Kaaba. Our old red-bearded Moslem bearer in 
India, pointing to his green badge which attested the 
truth of his story, told us how he made the circuit 
around the Kaaba, the square flat-roofed building 
which is situated in the center of the Great Mosque 
at Mecca, and how he was allowed to worship 
and kiss the irregular, oval black stone of seventeen 
inches in diameter, which was originally a ruby 
dropped from heaven, and blackened by the tears shed 
by sinning pilgrims. This Kaaba is the point to- 
ward which all Mohammedans turn their faces during 
their devotions. Not being Mussulmans, it is useless 
for us to hope to look upon the wonderful Kaaba, 
but our historical thought of association is at least 
gratifying. Arabia is not always to be a closed land, 
for modern archaeologists claim " the spade will tell us 
all some day. ' ' 

Anchor is dropped in Aden's Harbor for the purpose 
of re-coaling, and we expect to be besieged by all the 
hawkers from the city. We can hear the strange 



188 Glimpses Around the World 

ejaculations uttered by occupants of the busy moving, 
splashing sampans; however no dealers in ostrich 
feathers or other provincial souvenirs, molest us. Can 
we guess the reason? We are in quarantine, having 
come out of the land of plague, and until after the tenth 
day off India's coast we are subject to the laws of isola- 
tion issued by the International Board of Health. 
Coaling, by means of modern mechanical equipment, 
unlike our experience in Nagasaki, is quickly accom- 
plished, and our steamer glides majestically into the 
Red Sea. 

Coral reefs, running parallel to the coastline, cause an 
occasional deviation in the monotonous horizon. 
Early on the morning of the tenth day aboard, with 
field-glasses and telescope, we are able to distinguish 
what is supposed to be the outline of the rosy peak of 
the "Law Giving Mountain" of Sinai, where Moses, 
Miriam and the children of Israel sang their song of 
triumph. 

The Red Sea narrows into the Gulf of Suez and 
shortly before tiffin we sight Suez. Though once a 
nourishing town, it has recently depreciated in favor 
of its modern rival, Port Said. The propeller is 
silenced while the Suez health official comes aboard. 
We are promptly summoned to the dining salon and, 
single file, according to an alphabetical roll-call, we 
pass muster. A marine signal notifies the officials 
that an eastern bound steamer is passing through the 
canal. We must therefore wait at the southern en- 
trance. We can hear the tolling church bell on shore 
calling Christian worshipers to Sunday service. Yon- 
der, numerous native pleasure-seekers are making 
their way to what is known as the "Wells of Moses;" 
a sort of oasis, surrounded by thrifty palms, the spot 
referred to by Dean Stanley as, "The Richmond of 
Suez. " 



The Land of Wonders 



189 



We remember it was in 1859 that Monsieur de Les- 
seps commenced the great work of cutting a canal 
through the Isthmus of Suez, thus greatly facilitating 
the navigation and commerce of the whole world. 

We try to imagine the innumerable difficulties, 
which had to be overcome, the hardships endured by 
engineers and the poor jellahin, during the ten 
years of its construction, and then the festivities at the 




Passing Through the Suez Canal. 



wedding of the Mediterranean and Red Sea, which 
were on such an elaborate scale, that Ismail Pasha, 
the Khedive, is said to have spent over four million 
pounds sterling, only a little less than one-quarter of 
the entire cost of the construction, in this opening 
celebration. 



igo Glimpses Around the World 



The dues for all vessels must be rated high, as dredg- 
ing is constantly necessary to maintain the depth of 
thirty feet of water. We are told that seven shillings, 
or about one dollar and seventy-five cents per pas- 
senger, and an equal amount per ton on the net ton- 
nage, must be paid by the steamship companies. This 
approximate extra cost is included when each passenger 
purchases his steamship ticket. 




Harbor of Port Said. 

As we slowly enter the canal, we notice the substan- 
tial appearance of the outer harbor, which is formed 
of moles built of weighty blocks of concrete. The 
scenes en route suggest the vast waste lands which lie 
beyond, and the occasional groups of solemn marching 
camels enhance this sense of loneliness and desolation 
of the desert. Exactly according to schedule time, 
seventeen hours and forty minutes are consumed 
while our steamship Egypt glides slowly through the 
one hundred miles which link the water-ways of Orient 
and Occident. 



The Land of Wonders 191 

Bright and early Monday morning, we approach 
the harbor of Port Said, which has been made especi- 
ally advantageous by the building of a concrete light- 
house. It is not necessary for us to shout from deck, 
" once more we are clean, ' ' the days of quarantine have 
passed, no yellow flag floats from our mast. The 
Egyptian hawkers are already scrambling upon deck, 
enticing us with their wares. The black or white net 
and silver native veils, such as are now worn by many 
European ladies as evening drapery, attract our 
attention. 

The various prices quoted by these suave salesmen 
seem excessive, and as we expect to frequent shops on 
shore, we wisely postpone our purchasing. 

The Arabic, like most of the Oriental languages, 
is written from right to left. Let us try to remember 
that only the three vowels, "a, i, u, " with the cor- 
responding long vowels and diphthongs "a, i, u, ai," 
can be represented in written Arabic, other vowel 
sounds however, are heard in the spoken language. 
d, as in father. e, as a in many, 

a, as in thanks. i the long continental i, as 

a, as in woman. in trio, elite. 

H as 00, in moon. 1 as in mill. 

u, as in full. 
o, is found in ako, and in the pronominal sufhx o, oh. 

The pure ai, or ei, as in aisle, is chiefly preserved 
at the end of syllables. 

The Egyptians make use of short auxiliary vowels 
to avoid the harshness consequent on the consonants 
coming together. 

In continuous speech a short e (like the first e in 
believe) is inserted between words ending with two 
consonants. ' ' 



CHAPTER IX 

The Cradle of Civilization 

Mysterious Flood, — that through the silent sands 

Hast wandered century on century, 
Watering the length of great Egyptian land 

Which were not, but for thee. 

Bayard Taylor, To the Nile. 

THE tall, graceful date-palms Sway their salaam. 
as we enter the border of the Land of Goshen, 
. into the enchantment of the translucent Egyp- 
tian atmosphere. 

Egypt, the very name sends a thrill to every cell in 
our cerebrum, as we recall a few of the countless his- 
torical events which occurred in this land, the cradle 
of civilization. Here, Moses was reared, here the faith- 
ful Joseph served as governor, here Pythagoras studied 
philosophy, here charming Cleopatra ruled in splendor, 
here the Holy Family took refuge, here Napoleon's 
visions of his Eastern Empire were shattered, and here 
we are, being rowed ashore by, perhaps, one of Rameses' 
descendants. We suffer no inconvenience at the cus- 
toms office, and after paying for every pound of baggage 
we transport to Cairo, we hurriedly drive to the station 
and catch the midday train for the metropolis. Port 
Said will be visited again. 

We find the railway coaches divided into compart- 
ments, which are connected by a narrow passageway 
at one side. 

Here is the first Egyptian woman we have seen. 
We cannot judge as to her beauty, for a yashmak, 

(192) 



The Cradle of Civilization 



193 



or white muslin face veil attached to a cruel looking 
gold ornament, conceals all her face, except for a pair 
of lustrous black eyes. A loose cloak of dark silk 
known as habara, envelopes her body, while a 
black silk shawl is drawn over her head. In stature 
she resembles her Indian sister. 

We notice the Egyptian men of the upper class wear 
what is called a kaftan, a silken vest, which reaches 
nearly to the ankles. This garment has flowing sleeves 
and is confined by a girdle. Over this is a dark cloth 
robe, or gibbeh, which resembles the kaftan in 
shape, except that the sleeves are shorter and the 
outer garment is left open in the front. The general 
head-dress is the turban bound round a tarboosh, 
or red fez, though we notice the very poor men wear 
merely a coarse brown tarboosh and a long blue cotton 
robe, galabiya. 

From the windows of our train we can see Lake 
Menzala, which was formerly a part of the Delta, now 
a marshy lagoon where quantities of water-fowl make 
their home. On the opposite side of the train we see 
the Plain of Pelusium, which stretches to the sea. 

As we speed through the country we are amused at 
the curious looking signs in Arabic. An English speak- 
ing native points to one, and he tells us this is the sta- 
tion of El-Kantata, the site of Mr. Petrie's excavations, 
where traces of the House of Pharaoh have been dis- 
covered. Was it not here that Jeremiah prophesied 
the downfall of Egypt? A brief stop at Ismaliya, 
bordering on the Lake of the Crocodiles, thought to 
be the old limit of the Red Sea, a glance at the station 
of Zagazig and we reach the gateway to the Land of 
the Pharaohs; the seductive city of Aladdin. Hotel 
runners, whose caps are marked, " Shepheards, " 
' 'Semiramis, ' ' ' 'Grand Continental, ' ' "Savoy, ' ' "Bristol, ' ' 
etc., are trying to assist us in alighting from our 



194 



Glimpses Around the World 



compartment. They all speak English and their 
persistence is irritating. 

It is March, the height of the season, and Cairo is 
over-crowded with pleasure- and health-seekers from 
all continents, who are here enjoying the balmy 
atmosphere. 

All is new, strange and full of color. We drive 




Caironese Mussulmans. 



through the Esbekyeh, the Broadway of Cairo, 
which, like Paris, is a city of cafes. Here is a group 
of solemn Caironese, patriarchal figures in their great 
turbans and varied-hued robes. They have met to 
smoke their narghileh, play dominoes and sip of the 
strong, black coffee, while discussing the news of the 
day. 



The Cradle of Civilization 195 

The mingling costumes of Mussulmans, Copts, Jews, 
Arabs, Greeks, Armenians, Nubians, Soudanese, Be- 
douins, Turks, Levantines and Franks as they throng 
the thoroughfares, present a unique appearance. This 
is indeed, the ideal city of the Arabian Nights. 

Prices equal to those charged in the first-class 
American hotels procure us corresponding accommoda- 
tions. In the dining salon,- indulging in the delicacies 
of Orient and Occident, amid the brilliancy of fashion, 
where the occasional sounds of English, French, 
German and Arabic are heard above the orchestral 
music, we are in doubt as to our whereabouts. 
We pass into the indoor palm garden where groups of 
men and women are smoking, and join the pleasure- 
seekers. Promptly a handsome looking Turk in fez 
and zouave jacket, serves us with tiny cups of Turkish 
coffee. It is black and thick. We are reluctant to 
taste it, for we have not been served with sugar. 
Gaining courage we sip of the beverage and find it 
delicious. It has been sweetened during preparation. 
As we glance about we find the scenes not altogether 
unfamiliar, but unexpected on African shores. 

We are anxious to gain an insight into the typical 
streets of Cairo, like those reproduced at the Columbian 
Exposition in Chicago. Through the hotel manage- 
ment we engage the services of a trustworthy Egyptian 
guide, or dragoman, and start out on foot to see the 
Caironese Cairo by night. We no sooner leave the 
sheltering hotel veranda, than we are besieged by 
polite hawkers selling ostrich feathers, and plumes, 
postal-cards, bead necklaces, fans and purses filled with 
scarabs. Though we have had considerable practice 
in the art of Eastern bargaining, these Egyptians, 
whom someone has said, " are the Irish of the Orient, " 
test our patience and good-humored courtesy. 

We leave the Ismaliya quarter, as the European 



196 Glimpses Around the World 

hotel district is called, and make our way through 
dark, narrow, winding alleys. Veiled women, whose 
hair is done into many small plaits and lengthened by 
silken cords adorned with gold coins and ornaments, 
are grouped in the doorways. Others are peering from 
up-stair niches or latticed windows. Groups of dirty 
little children, who look ready for their bed, rather 
than for a frolic, blockade the unpaved passages 
through which we walk. Our guide tells us that the 
slovenly appearance of the little ones is often inten- 
tional neglect, being adopted to avert the effects of the 
"evil eye," of which the Egyptians entertain great 
dread. 

Passing vegetable and sweetmeat booths, which are 
swarming with flies, we enter an amusement hall. 
The atmosphere is dense with smoke. Men seated at 
tables are drinking and smoking. Our eyes wander 
to an elevated platform at one end of the room, where 
a group of squatting, swarthy-skinned, masculine 
musicians with cymbal, pipe and lute are accompany- 
ing two women, who are performing the native ab- 
dominal muscular dance. 

The history of Cairo begins with the Arabs. It is 
recorded that the town known as Fostat, which in 
Arabic means tent, was founded near the site of the 
ancient Roman fortress of Babylon. After the con- 
quest by the Califs, Masrel-Kahira, or Masr, as 
the natives call Cairo, became the Egyptian head- 
quarters. Salaheddin, who was proclaimed sultan in 
1 1 74, enclosed the town by a fortification made of 
stones taken from the small pyramid of Gizeh, and 
thus began the building of one of the most beautiful 
cities of Islam. 

An early morning drive in a arabiyeh, or victoria 
carriage, through the beautiful boulevards reminds us 
that much credit is due to the commander of the Al- 



The Cradle of Civilization 197 

banian troops, Mohammed Ali, who laid out these wide 
thoroughfares, which are now the headquarters of the 
European colony, and known as the Ismaliya district 
and Bab-el-luk quarters. Here is the Khedivial Opera 
House, in front of which stands a fine statue of Ibrahim 
Pasha, and just beyond is the post-ofhce. In Abbin 
Square we view the palace of H. H. the Khedive, 
Abbas Pasha Hilmi, the Viceroy of Egypt. The present 
Khedive succeeded his father, the good Tewfik Pasha, 
at the age of eighteen years, for according to an agree- 
ment with the Sultan of Turkey, hereditary succession 
was established in Egypt in 1866. We remember 
it was after the Battle of the Nile, that Great Britain 
formed an alliance with Turkey. Although history tells 
us "the English left Egypt in 1803," they seemingly 
needed but the encouragement tendered them by the 
present Pasha, to reestablish themselves in the salu- 
brious African metropolis. As we pass through the 
streets we feel conscious of England's influence, which, 
in regard to education and public service, has been and 
no doubt is, very beneficial. We trust this foreign 
diplomacy will not cause the Moslem leaders to neg- 
lect the development of their own people; for alien 
ownership here will but repeat the conditions pre- 
vailing in India. 

Though the Citadel is our objective point, we must 
pause before mounting the height, to view the 
Mosque of Sultan Hasan, which is often called, "the 
magnificent. ' ' It was built by Hasan in the four- 
teenth century, and at present the towering minaret, 
as well as the mosque proper, are in a state of restora- 
tion. Though we are unable to view the interior, 
we can understand why the attractive design of the 
facade has served as a model in the erection of several 
well known Mohammedan mosques. Our guide tells 
us all the mosques are built in a uniform style, which 



198 Glimpses Around the World 

has hardly varied during the lapse of centuries. The 
plan of the mosque is almost invariably an oblong 
rectangle, in the center of which is a vast court-yard 
called Sahhn-el-Gama a. In the middle of it is the 
fountain of ablution, which is often covered by a 
wooden roof. This court is enclosed by a colonnade, 
which forms the liwan, or place of prayer. The sanc- 
tuary is formed by that part of the liwan directed to- 
ward Mecca. The doorway is generally elaborately 
decorated, but the exterior is always simple, which adds 
attractiveness to the great copper crescents that cap the 
dome and minarets. 

Leaving our carriage we ascend a steep foot-path as 
our dragoman points to the place where Mohammed 
Ali trapped the four hundred and sixty Mamelukes, 
thereby laying the basis of the independence of Egypt. 
Only one of the corps of cavalry is said to have escaped 
massacre by leaping over the embankment on horse- 
back. What a glorious view we have before us; the 
city lies below with its strongly-built walls and lofty 
towers, its gardens and squares, palaces and mosques. 
Yonder is the broad Nile, probably the most historic 
of streams, while in the midst of vast stretching, yellow 
sands we are able to catch our first glimpse of the Py- 
ramids of Gizeh (ge'ze). The Citadel, which is itself 
commanded by the Mokattam Hills, is now thought 
to be practically useless for modern artillery. The 
glaring sun causes us to seek shelter in the adjoining 
Mosque of Mohammed Ali, often called the " alabaster 
mosque," whose dome and two slender tapering min- 
arets we have viewed from afar. 

A Greek architect designed it in imitation of the 
Hagia Sophia Church at Constantinople. A fee of 
two piasters, equal to about ten cents, entitles us to 
admission, as well as the use of a pair of very clumsy 
felt overshoes. Without this covering for our feet 



The Cradle of Civilization 



199 



we should not be permitted to enter the Moslems' 
house of worship. As we pass into the subdued light, 
the glistening prisms of the elaborate crystal chandelier 
cause all else to melt into indistinctness. How beauti- 
ful this must look when illuminated upon a festive 
occasion. We step in upon the exquisite Oriental 
rugs and find many devotees sitting about on the floor. 
Some half a dozen elderly men in flowing robes are 
grouped around a wire grating enclosure, which we 




Mosque of Mohammed All 

learn is the tomb of Mohammed Ali. The worshipers 
are so intent upon their chanting prayers, which they 
utter as they sway backwards and forwards, that they 
seem oblivious of our presence. It is said this is the 
most elaborate mosque in Cairo; we cannot dispute 
the fact, for we shall have time to visit but a few of the 
several hundred houses of Moslem worship. We pass 
through two gateways, and returning to our carriage, 
drive to the Tombs of the Mamelukes, on the south- 



200 Glimpses Around the World 

east side of the city. The word Mameluke, means 
slave. We are disappointed to find merely ruins 
of the notable architecture, which serves as a reminder 
of the existence of these great sovereign rulers, and as 
we make our way back to the city we think of the phil- 
osophy of the Arabian Milton, Abou Alola, when he 
wrote : 

Think not Abdallah, pride and fame 

Can ever travel hand in hand; 
With breast oppos'd and adverse aim, 

On the same narrow path they stand. 

Thus youth and age together meet, 

And life's divided moments share; 
This can't advance till that retreat, 

What's here increased is lessened there. 

And thus the falling shades of night 

Still struggle with the lucid ray. 
And ere they stretch their gloomy flight 

Must win the lengthen'd space from day. 

It is Friday, the one day in the week when we can 
see the Howling Dervishes perform. We shall not 
miss the opportunity, and after a well-served luncheon 
we again engage an arabiyeh and with dragoman in 
flowing robe and white bound turban, seated on the 
box, we make an excursion to Old Cairo " Masr el- 
Ateeka. ' ' The boulevard lined with palaces and villas 
of the Ismaliya quarter disappear, and in their stead 
crooked lanes and dirty hovels are visible. 

We stop before the Kasr el Eini Mosque, where for 
many years the "Zikr," a pious devotion to Allah, 
is performed by Mohammedan mystics, who on Friday 
afternoon give themselves up to physical exertion 
until they fall down in a fit. We are told they are 
offered no assistance in recovery. Yes, here on a 
raised platform, a group of frenzied-looking men 
dressed in patch-work coats, are swaying their bodies 
from side to side, while in discordant tones they shout 



The Cradle of Civilization 



20I 



or howl " Hu," which our dragoman says means, 
"God." The sight is not a pleasure to witness, and 
we are perfectly satisfied to donate a few piasters and 
pass on. 

Here is the old hexagonal stone tower of the aque- 
duct, which was built by Saladin to supply the Cit- 
adel with water. The ruined Gothic arches upon 
which it was constructed extend some three miles 
along the road. We are now in the Coptic quarter, 
the site of the city of Fostat. Yonder ruined wall of 
stone is said to be the remains of a Roman Castle 
built upon a Babylonian fortress. 

We leave our carriage and visit the famous Coptic 
church of Saint Sergius (ser'-ji-us) or Abu Sargah, 
which is considered to be one of the best examples of 
an early Egyptian church. 

A small gateway in the high stone wall, and a three- 
minutes ' walk through a crooked, narrow, dirty, foul- 
smelling alley, where afflicted beggars wail in chorus 
"backshish! backshish!" We are loath to enter the 
old edifice. A native girl of perhaps sixteen years, 
minus the sweet, serves us as custodian. The light 
is so dim as we enter, that we gropingly follow her 
to the altar. Two burning tapers cast their faint rays 
of light on the frescos and carvings in wood and ivory. 
While we try to discern these ancient representations 
of the life of Christ, our young guide rapidly points 
from one thing to another as she jabbers, in the shril- 
lest falsetto quality of voice, words intended to be 
English. The effect is almost exasperating. But 
what can we do except follow, for already the damsel is 
in possession of the only light, and she is leading the 
way down stone steps to the crypt under the church. 
This crypt, which dates from the Arab conquest, 
served, according to tradition, as a refuge to the Holy 
Virgin after her flight to Egypt, For the benefit of 



202 Glimpses Around the World 

the sight-seers who are to follow, let us remember the 
distribution of the all-important "backshish." Dis- 
tressing cries of the wretched blind creatures who 
crouch along the wayside make the return walk of a 
few minutes seem hours. We are thankful to find 
ourselves reinstated in our conveyance. 

All about is dismal, even the smiling sun seems to 
shun these byways. We hear the chanting lamenta- 
tion of a multitude, and for a moment a cloud of dust 
blinds us. Then we see a crowd of men slowly march- 
ing through the street. Eight of them are carrying a 
litter upon which lies the body of a woman, a gaily 
colored cloth serves as shroud, while behind walk the 
bedraggled-looking women mourners, carrying babes 
perched upon their shoulders. 

We have reached the canal, which flows from one 
end of Cairo to the other. Just across this narrow 
arm of the Nile lies the Island of Roda. Let us take 
the little ferry across. It costs only one piaster, five 
cents. This is our introduction to the wonderful 
River Nile. We are told that during the inundation 
the island is almost submerged, but now the vegetation 
is thrifty. Near the bank tall rushes are growing just 
as they grew centuries ago. Is not this the spot where 
Pharaoh's daughter discovered the infant whom she 
named Moses? which means "drawn out." 

Our dragoman points to a wonder-working tree of 
the Saint Mandura, which is growing in the garden. 
It is hung with rags which we are told have been 
brought here by afflicted persons who exchange some 
bit of their raiment for two of the virtue-yielding 
leaves. Long ere this we have rid our minds of 
skepticism and now, as upon all occasions, we accept 
the accounts related by our dragoman, and pass on to 
the square building or Well, known as the Nilometer. 
A pillar which is marked with the fluvial scale in ancient 



The Cradle of Civilization 



203 



Arabic cubits, reveals trie exact depth of the water, 
and this news is reported daily in Cairo. We remember 
reading how runners were formerly sent from village 
to village bringing the tidings. 

The inundation is the phenomenon of the Nile, and 
accordingly Egypt has three seasons each year, 
viz: 

ska, meaning water — August to November. 

per, meaning vegetation — December to March. 

shemu, meaning, harvest — April to July. 

No longer can we withstand the temptation to visit 
the bazaars. Along the Muski, the center of Arabian 
business life, all is hurry, bustle and noise, such as 
the Arab seems to love. The shrieking of the carriage 
drivers as they crack their whips, the clinking of brass 
cups by the lemonade sellers, is often accompanied 
by the harsh braying of donkeys. The beasts of burden 
are so heavily laden we lose sight of all except the 
huge baskets of produce which are heaped upon the 
little animals' backs. Just off the Muski is the shop- 
keepers' headquarters, the Khan el-Khalil, which was 
built about the end of the thirteenth century. It is 
composed of small windowless booths, or stalls, lining 
either side of the many passages of the Khan, or 
district. We notice that the merchandise is system- 
atically classified. Our craving for souvenirs is stimu- 
lated as we pass through the silversmith and jeweler's 
lanes. Here are the daintiest rings, pins, brooches 
and necklaces adorned with the sacred scarab, or beetle 
or other decoration of hieroglyphics, while sphinxes 
and mummies are conspicuous in suggesting the art 
and civilization of the early Egyptians. Yonder alley 
is devoted to brasses, while in other lanes we find shim- 
mering silks, the loveliest Oriental rugs, the pointed red 
and blue native slippers, or tempting sweetmeats, such 
as "Turkish Delight" and the delicious "Pistachio 



204 



Glimpses Around the World 



Nugget." Ah! here comes a laden donkey, the pas- 
sage is as narrow as the byways of Canton. 

We must hurriedly crowd into one of the shops so 
as not to obstruct the thoroughfare. A smiling, bowing 

shop - keeper, 
dressed in Euro- 
pean costume, 
invites us to in- 
spect his wares. 
" I am Christian, 
my shop is closed 
on Sunday. You 
buy from me to- 
day. My neigh- 
bor, he Moham- 
med. Moham- 
med shop closed 
on Friday. Sit 
down! friends." 
When we accept 
this invitation he 
promptly serves 
us with tiny cups 
of delicious 
Turkish coffee. 
He seems so gen- 
uinely hospitable 
we cannot refuse. 
Now it is our turn 

Lemonade Seller. to show OUr ap- 

preciation of his 
display of Egyptian shawls and gold and silver em- 
broidery. We select several articles. He, pointing to 
our selection, says, " These are very fine, you have good 
taste, I sell cheap," and then he names a price which, 
according to our earlier experiences of similar articles, 




The Cradle of Civilization 



205 



we judge to be about twice the actual value. We pre- 
tend to look crestfallen. Our salesman thinks we are 
unaccustomed to Eastern bargaining, and says, " You 
are rich. All Americans are rich. ' ' Our attitude is un- 
changed. " I will make it cheaper, you are my good 
friends. Take it!" Then he quotes the same price 
according to the English system of shillings. We 




Street in Cairo. 



again feign dissatisfaction, and the always affable 
merchant asks, "How much you give?" We do feel 
under obligation to our host, and offer him a trifle 
more than the actual value of the goods. He pauses 
to calculate, and after some pondering, with an air of 
strict confidence tells us, "Well, because you are my 
good American friends, I will give it to you for the 



2o6 



Glimpses Around the World 



price you say, but you must not tell anybody how cheap 
I give it to you. ' ' Before we leave he cordially invites 
us to call again, and reminds us to tell all our friends 
how cheaply he sells. A facsimile of this performance 

we rehearse each 
time we wish to 
purchase an 
article. Occa- 
sionally a Euro- 
peanized mer- 
chant tells us, " I 
charge only one 
price." We 
usually find this 
price excessive. 
While in the 
East let us bar- 
gain as the East- 
erners do. Alas! 
time is fleeting. 
There are many 
passages we 
have not yet 
traversed. We 
must console 
ourselves in the 
thought of an- 
other visit. 

Again reach- 
ing the Muski we 
engage a con- 
veyance and drive to the Tombs of the Califs who 
reigned over Egypt from 1381-1517 A. D. 

We continue along the Muski and Rue Nevue and 
leave the city by the Bab-en-Nasr Gate. Though the 
road is dusty and the heat intense we feel well repaid for 




Tomb-Mosque of Kait Bey. 



The Cradle of Civilization 



207 



our trip, for look! here is the beautiful Tomb-Mosque 
of Kait Bey. Its riehly decorated high dome and grace- 
ful minarets are splendid. "As a model of elegance it 
surpasses the "Alhambra," and for its style of architec- 
ture it ranks first among Egyptian buildings. We 
find the court and walls decorated with incrustations 
of the lovely colored porcelain tiles for which the 
oldest Arabic monuments of Cairo are famous. As we 
reach the site of the tomb the attending guide points 
to a spot which is said to bear the print of Moham- 
med's foot. Kait Bey brought the stones from Mecca. 
We visit the remains of El-Ashraf Burshey and then 
that of the Sultan Barkuk. The Mosque-tomb of the 
latter is adorned with two domes unlike any we have 
yet seen in Cairo. Unfortunately the fanciful network 
of arabesque tracery is falling to ruin. A group of 
blind and limping vagabonds gather about our car- 
riage, as we again make our way to the road. It is 
useless to attempt to pass along unmolested, unless 
we cause a scurrying for "backshish." The farther 
away we throw the coveted coins, the more possible 
is our hurried escape. 

Cairo, "the Queen city of the East," is a luxury, 
for after the work of sight-seeing here, unlike most of 
the centers of Oriental interest we have visited, we 
are able to find recuperative accommodations at a 
first-class modern hotel. To-morrow we expect to 
go to Gizeh, and a visit to the great Egyptian Museum 
is an apropos introduction. 

We learn that the collection was commenced in an old 
post-office at Bulak, in 1854 by the well-known French 
Egyptologist, Monsieur I. A. Mariette, whose excava- 
tions brought to light many of the treasures of ancient 
Egypt. These meager accommodations became inade- 
quate and the collection was removed to the Gizeh 
Palace of Ismail Pasha. Here it was housed some 



208 



Glimpses Around the World 



dozen years. Then the Egyptian Government estab- 
lished an appropriate home. We are among the 
fortunate who, since 1902, are able to visit the spacious 
and well-arranged New Egyptian Museum, situated 




Shekh el-Beled. 



near the Kasr en Nile Bridge. We find the remains 
of Mariette reposing in a massive marble sarcophagus, 
before the principal entrance. Five piasters, equal to 
twenty-five cents, we pay as admission fee, and about 
eighteen piasters for a complete English catalogue. 



The Cradle of Civilization 



209 



Two massive red granite sphinxes from Karnak are 
the first to greet us, as they usher us into this laby- 
rinth of ancient Egyptian mementos. 

There is so much to see we hardly know where to 
begin. Looking in " Room B, " on the " ground floor, ' ' 
we find the famous 
wooden statue of a man 
found at Sakkara. It is 
known as Shekh el-Beled, 
because of the likeness 
to the mayor of the vil- 
lage near which it was 
found. We marvel at 
the wonderful state of 
its preservation and of 
the detail work practiced 
by artists forty centuries 
ago. We notice the eyes 
of the statue are white 
quartz, the centers of 
crystal, and the pupils 
polished splinters o f 
ebony, even the eyelids 
are of bronze. 

In " Room F" we see 
the well-known lime- 
stone statues of Prince 
Ra-Hotep and his wife 
the Princess Nefert, 
which are said to rank 

with the Shekh el-Beled, among the museum's treas- 
ures. The group was discovered near the pyramid of 
Medum. 

Let us ascend the broad flight of stairs which leads 
to the first floor. Passing countless sarcophagi and 
statues we reach " Rooms P to S " to pay our respects 




^ ^ - 



Prince Ra-Hotep and Princess 
Nefert. 



2io Glimpses Around the World 

to the royal mummies, which were found at Deir-el- 
Bahari, (dar-el-bd r hd-re). Here in a glass case lies 
the Alexander of Ancient Egyptian History, Thoth- 
mes III (thoth'mez). We are looking upon the 
remains of him who conquered the world sixteen hun- 
dred years before Christ. " He carved on the walls of 
Karnak the names of six hundred and twenty-eight 
vanquished nations and captured cities, and he set up 
a tablet of victory in the Great Temple. " 

According to the theory of the archaeologists, the 
early Egyptian man was supposed to be composed of 
several different existences. After death a soul passed 
into a long series of animals until the sins were ex- 
piated. Sometimes a thousand years elapsed before 
the state of purification was reached, when the soul 
again passed into the old body. For this reason the 
body was preserved after death and thus arose the 
custom of embalming. Many of the mummies are 
enclosed in mummy cases, the lids of which bear the 
outline of the occupant as well as the face mask. The 
process of mummification or embalming of the bodies 
of wealthy Egyptians was a very costly affair. It is 
described as occupying three months, during which 
time the vital organs were removed, packed in separate 
vases and committed to the especial care of the " Four 
Guardians of Hades. ' ' The cavity was then filled 
with gums and costly spices from Araby, and strips 
of linen dipped in myrrh were wrapped about the 
body; every joint and limb being swathed completely 
and with great skill. Some of the strips are found to be 
actually one thousand yards long. Having then 
gilded and decorated the thick layers of cloth, the 
pasteboard was laid on and dampened to take the 
impress of the human figure. This the artists skil- 
fully painted with hieroglyphics, which told the story 
of the lifeless body within. A stone sarcophagus 



The Cradle of Civilization 211 

received the mummy and a programme of the final 
ceremonies of the day of judgment. 

There is the builder-king of the nineteenth dynasty, 
Seti (se'ti), while here before our very eyes lies the 
pillaged mummy of his son, Rameses (ram'e-sez) II 
the Great, probably the most distinguished of all 
Egyptian monarchs as warrior and builder of monu- 
ments. Next is Menephthes, or Mineptah {mi-nep r ta), 
the successor of Rameses II. We can see the features 
and touch the coffin of the very Pharaoh who hastened 
the Children of Israel out of Egypt. 

In the Galerie des Bijoux are cases filled with 
jewelry worn by the ancient queens. We are astonished 
at the exquisite workmanship reached in the gold- 
smith's art centuries ago. A bell announces that it is 
four o'clock, the hour of closing. We are reluctant 
to take our leave. Yonder specimens of household 
implements and furniture, as well as rare examples 
of hieroglyphics are enticing, but one of the attendants, 
pointing to the exit, utters the word "jerme" which 
we know is the French term for closed. 

Perhaps it is not too late to visit the Gizeh Zoological 
Gardens. We hire a passing arabiyeh and crossing 
the beautiful Kasr-el-nil Bridge, reach the gardens 
in time to ramble admiringly about the ornamental 
grottos and bridges which serve as a Caironese home 
to the vast and varied family of animals, birds and 
plants. The tropical sunshine and the surrounding 
beauties of Nature are refreshing after our sojourn 
among things pre-historic 

Wake! For the Sun who scatter'd into flight 

The Stars before him from the Field of Night, 

Drives Night along with them from Heav'n, and strikes 

The Sultan's Turret with a Shaft of Light. 

Our dragoman has completed all preparations for 
our day's experience. We hastily drive to and across 



212 Glimpses Around the World 

the Kasr el-Nil Bridge, which at this early morn- 
ing hour presents a lively scene of interest. Native 
peasants are coming to town on donkeys and camels. 
As there are few carts employed, the beasts are laden 
with fodder and alfalfa, clover, vegetables and hides. 
Some of the women, unlike those we have seen about 
the city, wear no veils, but the lower part of their faces, 
as well as their hands and feet, are tattoed with red 
and green dye. We are told that this is a sign of pov- 
erty. On the farther or west side of the Nile we find 
an electric tram. Several foreign sight-seers, like 
ourselves, purchase first-class tickets at three piasters 
each, while the dragomen travel in a second-class 
compartment at the rear. 

A lovely road shaded by the native acacia (a-kd'sha) 
trees leads past the Palace of Gizeh, the former home 
of the Egyptian Museum. We are told that this is 
the road that Ismail Pasha ordered built, that the 
royal guests who came to the opening of the Suez Canal 
might also easily view the colossal forms of the Pyra- 
mids of Gizeh. The custom of the Egyptians to found 
the necropolis always in the desert behind the city, 
and never upon the fertile plain, as with our own 
beautiful cemeteries, has been determined by the 
necessity of getting above the reach of the inundations 
of the Nile, and to secure rock strata in the cliffs into 
which to cut chambers. Already the gigantic sepul- 
chers rise up in naked distinctness. They seem to 
stand out perfect in outline and proportion. 

After about forty-minutes' ride we reach the Mena 
House, a comfortable hotel built for the accommodation 
of those who wish to spend much time at this edge of 
the vast rolling wilderness of burning seas of sand. 
Shrieking donkey boys thrust their beasts in our way 
as we walk up a rough incline to the base of the great 
limestone pyramid, the eternal resting place of Khufu 



The Cradle of Civilization 



213 



(kb'fo), the second king of the fourth dynasty. As 
we expect to take the Nile trip we have provided our- 
selves with "Antiquity tickets," purchased in Cairo. 
We will now ascend the Great Pyramid, the splendid. 
Our dragoman engages three Bedouins, who, according 
to law, must accompany each climber. These sturdy 
men in long white robes and bound head-dress, are 




Our Bedouin Attendants. 



quick to perceive we are Americans. They promptly 
introduce themselves thus, "I, Mark Twain," "I, 
Mark Twain's son, " and the third, " I, Daisy. " "You, 
nice American. ' ' 

We surrender ourselves to these Arabs. One takes 
hold of the right hand, the other the left and the third 
assists in boosting, while we, scarcely bending our 



214 Glimpses Around the World 

joints, are pulled up the steps of layers of broken stones, 
each of which averages at least three and one-half 
feet in height. Now, for the first time, we are able 
to comprehend what a mountain of granite blocks we 




Ascending the Great Pyramid of Khufu. 

are climbing. We think how, according to Herodotus 
one hundred thousand slaves labored and died during 
the twenty years construction of this indestructible 
monument. Was it all merely for the purpose that 



The Cradle of Civilization 215 

"after life's fitful fever" one fellow-mortal should sleep 
well during the dynasties that have risen and perished ? 
Ah, but in spite of all these precautions, the pyramids 
have been penetrated several times, for the purpose 
of pillage and plunder, as well as under the direction of 
archaeological researchers. After a strenuous twenty- 
minutes ' climb, we find ourselves on what is now the 
summit, and according to Mr. Petrie's measurements, 
four hundred and fifty-one feet high. The space at 
the top is about thirty feet square. Not level as we 
had expected, for some blocks from the upper tiers 
still remain; on one of these let us sit, gaze, and 
muse while we rest, as the Greek tourists of old and 
all successive travelers have pondered. The day is 
clear though the sun is not shining. The first thing 
we are conscious of as we look out and beyond is the 
seeming nearness of the second pyramid. We are 
surprised to find many pyramidal-shaped mounds 
rising against the horizon. Yonder Sphinx, the " father 
of terror, ' ' seems disappointingly small. To the west 
rises the Libyan Range, to the east the glistening 
domes of Cairo, the mast-like minarets of the 
Citadel, with the Mokattam Hills as a back- 
ground. The lovely cultivated "Land of Goshen" 
dotted and divided by palms and canals is exactly 
opposite to that of the southern view, which as far 
as our eyes can see is desert waste land. Our unsympa- 
thetic Bedouin attendants, to whom this view is an 
every-day occurrence, are impatient to descend. They 
ask us to write our names upon the side of the stone 
that they may cut our signatures where hieroglyphs 
were once inscribed. Dr. Lepsius ' theory states that 
"before the actual building of the pyramid was begun 
a suitable rocky site was chosen and cleared, a mass 
of rock if possible being left in the middle of the area 
to form the core of the building. The chambers and 



216 Glimpses Around the World 

galleries leading to them were next planned and 
excavated. Around the core a truncated pyramid 
building was made, the angles of which were filled up 
with blocks of stone. Layer after layer of stone was 
then built around the work, which grew larger and larger 
until it was finished. When a king ascended the 
throne, he built for himself a small but complete tomb 
pyramid, and a fresh coating of stone was built around 
it every year that he reigned, and when he died the 
sides of the pyramids were long flights of steps which 
his successor filled up with right-angled triangular 
blocks of stone. The door of the pyramid wall was 
locked after the body of its builder has been laid in it, 
and thus remained a finished tomb. Near the core 
of the pyramid the work is more carefully executed 
than near the exterior, that is to say, as the time for 
the king's death approached the work was more hur- 
riedly performed. ' ' This seems a very plausible theory 
yet Mr. Petrie, perhaps the most extensive surveyor 
in Egyptian archaeology, claims that the original 
plan was always for the building as it was when com- 
pleted. King Khufu is said to have named his tomb 
Khut, meaning Lights, perhaps this term suggested 
the theory that the pyramids were built for astro- 
nomical observation. Another glance and we begin 
the descent, which is made up of a succession of 
jumps. Though " Mark Twain ' ' and " Daisy ' ' assist us, 
we find the continual jolt more tiring than the ascent. 
On the north side of the pyramid, when about forty- 
five feet from the ground, we reach the entrance to the 
interior. We can see nothing as we peer into the open 
dark passage which leads to the subterranean chamber, 
the Great Hall, and the so-called King and Queen 
Chambers. A couple of the bedraggled-looking fel- 
low-tourists who have just penetrated the interior are 
sitting near the entrance. (With apologies to Eliza- 



The Cradle of Civilization 217 

beth B. Browning) — Have they seen the mystery- 
hid under Egypt 's pyramid ? 

Their report is discouraging, " the dark passages are 
narrow and slippery and the Arabs are disagreeable in 
their continual begging for backshish. ' ' There is 
little to be seen during the hazardous trip, and his- 
torical association loses its charm in the sight of peril. 
Once more we are standing upon terra firma. 

Pygmies are pygmies still, though percht on Alps; 

And pyramids are pyramids, in vales. 

Each man makes his own stature, builds himself, 

Virtue alone outbuilds the pyramids, 

Her monuments shall last when Egypt's fall. 

Our dragoman and camel boys are waiting beside the 
kneeling dromedary. We have no time to think how 
tired and lame we feel. Climbing into the saddle we 
are cautioned to hold on tight and lean back, while our 
" ship of the desert " first rises on his front feet. Then 
as we shift our weight forward, the three sets of hind 
joints are unfolded. The swaying of our bodies caused 
by the deliberate strut of the camels seems soothing 
after our fatiguing climb. Single file, with dragoman 
in the lead and dark-skinned Arab boys walking beside 
each camel, we ride some fifteen minutes to the Sphinx. 

We have reclined in dainty jinrikishas, while coolies 
served as our means of locomotion; the Philippine 
carromato drawn by the water buffalo proved a restful 
means of transportation. In sedan-chairs we have 
been carried upon the shoulders of pig-tailed " Ching 
Chings;" the Malayan gharry served us well; like the 
rajahs of India we have majestically traveled on the 
back of the largest existing land mammal, and now 
we are making our way across the burning sands of the 
vastest desert, seated on the backs of one-humped 
camels. 

The disappointment we experienced as we gazed 



218 Glimpses Around the World 

from the top of the Great Pyramid, proves but 
temporary. As we near the crouching figure, half- 
woman, half-lion, we realize the huge dimensions of 
this time-worn and broken Sphinx, which is a symbol 
of animal power and human intellect. 




Pyramids and Sphinx of Gizeh. 



Length of body, 150 feet. Width of mouth, 7J feet. 
Length of paws, 50 feet. Width of face, 14 feet. 
Length of head, 30 feet. Height of ear, 4I feet. 
From crown to base, 70 feet. 
Though the origin of the sphinx is enveloped in 
mystery, inscriptions have been found which lead the 
ever researchful archaeologists to believe that millen- 
niums have passed since this face of stone first looked 
out over the landscape. It is still looking toward the 



The Cradle of Civilization 219 

East, "as if for some dawn that has not yet risen." 
Standing close beside it we see the body is but roughly 
hewn, while the head is sculptured in detail. Notwith- 
standing mutilation by the Mamelukes when they 
used it as a target, as well as by the sweeping sands of 
time, we can see that the features resemble a negro 
type. The head wears the klaft or linen head cover- 
ing, and signs are still visible on the forehead of the 
uraens, the emblem of royalty. 

Though we are riding toward Sakkarah (s'dk kd'rd) 
our eyes are turned back, riveted as it were, upon the 
well-known scene which no longer is a mere familiar 
picture, but an actuality. Gradually the monuments 
are lost to view, the last glimpse of vegetation has 
disappeared, and we are riding on through the hot 
dusty wind. For the first time we are able to experi- 
ence a sirocco amid the isolation of this almost end- 
less waste land. Nothing but the dull sand below, 
nothing but the blue sky above. Like the poor old 
woman when she first gazed at the ocean, we are thank- 
ful that for once in our lives we are able to see enough 
of one thing. We are tempted to accept the theory 
that the Sahara Desert is the dried bed of a sea. 

Mounds and pyramids similar to those left behind 
in Gizeh are now visible in the Sakkarah district. We 
are fatigued, but we have no time for rest. We are 
thirsty but we dare not think of drink. An hour after 
midday we reach what is known as Marie tte 's House, a 
crude frame hut where the immortal scientist, Monsieur 
Marie tte, lived during the superintending of the Sak- 
karah excavations. The Arab boys bid our camels 
kneel, and we limpingly dismount and seek shelter 
and refreshment. We relish the lunch brought with 
us from our hotel in Cairo, especially the luscious 
oranges which quench our burning thirst. This is 
the most unique picnic we have ever attended. Yonder 



220 



Glimpses Around the World 



lie our camels and Arab boys, who seem happy to feast 
on the "backshish" we have just given them. 

A short walk brings us to the Apis Mausoleum, 
"the Memphian Westminster Abbey for Departed 
Bulls. " Again our "Antiquity tickets" serve us well. 
Our dragoman supplies us with lighted tapers and 
leads the way down a flight of stone steps into a large 




Noonday Rest in the Desert. 



very dark underground gallery. The wise Herodotus 
records that, " the calf of a cow incapable of conceiv- 
ing another offspring is known as Apis, the Egyptians 
believing that lightning descends upon the cow from 
heaven and that from thence it brings forth Apis. 
This calf has a square of white on the forehead, and on 
the back the figure of an eagle, and in the tail double 



The Cradle of Civilization 221 

hairs and on the tongue a beetle." Rawlinson tells 
ns, "the bull dwelt in a temple of his own near the 
city and was recognized as a divine incarnation in 
horns, hoofs and hide. The bull had his train of 
attendant priests, his harem of cows, his meals of the 
choicest food, his grooms and curry-combers, his 
chamberlains who made his bed, his cup-bearers who 
brought him water, and on a certain day the bull was 
led in a festive procession through the main streets of 
the town, that the inhabitants might come forth to 
make obeisance. When he died, he was carefully 
embalmed and deposited, together with magnificent 
jewels, statuettes and vases, in a polished sarcophagus 
cut out of a single block and weighing between sixty 
and seventy tons. ' ' 

In ante-chambers just off from the dark underground 
gallery we view these twenty-four red or black granite 
or limestone sarcophagi. How were these huge blocks 
ever handled and transported here ? 

Again in the open, we follow our dragoman during 
another short walk. We suddenly come upon an 
opening in one of the mounds of sand. It makes us 
think of the good little boy and girl in the fairy tale, 
who, while walking through the woods, come upon a 
cave filled with treasures, and how the good fairy 
appears and tells them to enter and take all they wish. 
Our dragoman stands ready with lighted tapers. The 
cave is no mirage, but the genuine Mastaba of Thi, 
one of the best preserved tombs of ancient Egyptian 
dignitaries. We enter. Lo ! here indeed are treasures, 
for the interior walls are decorated with the most in- 
teresting specimens of sculpture and painting, depicting 
life in Egypt about four thousand five hundred years 
ago. The state of preservation is miraculous. Drift- 
ing sands having blockaded the entrance during past 
centuries, no damage was done by sacrilegious thieves. 



222 Glimpses Around the World 

The wall reliefs show us Thi superintending the various 
operations of his large agricultural estates and farm 
yards. There are illustrations of his fishing and hunt- 
ing expeditions, crocodiles, cattle and lovely birds, as 
well as numerous hieroglyphics, which describe the 
life of the humble Thi, who raised himself by his 
abilities and had a princess for his wife. It is time 
to go, and we shall carry away memory-pictures of this, 
the best example of early Egyptian art, which will 
always prove a delight. 

Our camels have been made ready and resuming 
our elevated position we continue our riding tour. We 
pass the Pyramid of Unas. Through research, at the 
expense of Thomas Cook and Sons, the English tourist 
agents, it has been discovered that the elaborate 
colored inscription is the oldest religious text in Egypt. 
We cannot enter, for the drifting sand has blockaded 
the entrance. Here, rising above all else, is probably 
the oldest monument in the world, the Step Pyramid, 
assigned to the fourth Pharaoh of the first dynasty, 
which stands nearly two hundred feet in height. It is 
considered unsafe to climb or enter. A party of sight- 
seers on donkeys pass us, they have just come from 
Memphis and are en route to the Sakkarah necropolis. 
Theirs is the usual route taken by tourists. 

Signs of fertility tell us we are already on the out- 
skirts of the desert. Our camels halt and we dismount 
to see the gigantic polished limestone statue of Rameses 
II. The reclining effigy is sheltered by a wooden 
canopy. Though defaced, the torso, head and upper 
extremities of the statue remain typical of Egyptian 
art, the chin is represented with a false beard, while 
the left hand holds the emblem of power. 

Once more in our saddles we pass a group of mud 
huts known as the village of Mit-Rahhina, near here 
among lovely palms is another and more recently dis- 



The Cradle of Civilization 



223 



covered gigantic statue of the Great Rameses. " The 
first in the glory of Memphis, the last in her desolation. " 
A grove of stately feathery palm trees, a few mounds 
of ruins and a troop of dirty children shouting "back- 
shish, ' ' is all that can now be seen of that which was 
the most powerful and populous city of antiquity. 
Memphis, founded by Menes, the first king of Egypt. 




The Site of Ancient Memphis. 



According to Greek interpretation the hieroglyphs of 
Memphis mean, "beautiful dwelling," "good place," 
or "white walled city. " Nothing now except the dis- 
tant necropolis of Sakkarah causes us to realize that we 
are on the site of the ancient capital and center of 
learning. Amelia Edwards says: 

"If you but stamp your foot upon the sand of 



224 



Glimpses Around the World 



Memphis, you know that it probably awakens an echo 
in some dark hall or corridor untrod of man for three 
or four thousand years. The mummified generations 
are everywhere, — in the bowels of the mountains, in 
the face of the cliffs, in the rock cut labyrinths which 
underlie the surface of the desert." 

We ride on to the station of Bedrashen, and there 




The Charm of the Yashmak. 



dismiss our camels. Though we have been generous 
in our final presentation of "backshish" to our atten- 
dants, they continue begging until we board the train 
which carries us into Cairo. 

Belated dinner guests are we, but viands are relished 
when we recall the pleasures of this day's work. An 
evening spent at the hotel is enlivened by the enter- 



The Cradle of Civilization 225 

tainment of an old gypsy woman. She speaks eight 
languages fluently, while engaged in the most clever 
sleight-of-hand performance. We watch her closely, 
as she .sits on the floor, her sparkling black eyes illum- 
inating her wrinkled face. She takes a tiny chick 
from her bosom. With a sound of "gully, gully, gully," 
she seems to tear the poor little chick apart. We must 
immediately apply the plural form, for two tiny barn- 
yard fowls are now strutting about the lobby of the 
hotel. She pretends to eat cotton wadding, which she 
sets afire after placing between her teeth. The cotton 
disappears, and in its stead she extricates several yards 
of black threaded darning needles. We learn that she 
formerly traveled with Barnum's Circus, and is now a 
great favorite in Cairo. We must seek rest, for to- 
morrow the hard work of sight-seeing continues. 

Yesterday we viewed early morning fellahin life 
on the Kasr el-Nile Bridge. This afternoon, the same 
scene is peopled with Europeans and native aristo- 
crats riding, driving and promenading 

The steamship Cleopatra lies at the landing stage on 
the south side of the bridge. Desiring to exercise econ- 
omy of both time and money, while we glance at Nile 
treasures, we have purchased " Combined Rail and Ex- 
press Steamer Tourists' Tickets," from Thomas Cook 
and Son. Steamship Cleopatra sounds appropriate, and 
as we steam up the four hundred and fifty miles to 
Luxor, we try to imagine Tennyson's word-painting, 

Throned on a flowery rise, 

One sitting on a crimson scarf unroll'd; 
A queen, with, swarthy cheeks and bold black eyes, 

Brow-bound with burning gold. " 

When we studied geography in school, and learned 
"the Nile ranks with the Amazon, Mississippi and 
Congo, as one of the four largest rivers in the world, " 
we did not dream that to-day we should actually begin 



226 Glimpses Around the World 

a sight-seeing tour steaming * along its banks. For 
many centuries the source of the Nile and the origin 
of its floods were shrouded in mystery, the learned 
were puzzled, and explorers were baffled. The stream 
was honored and worshiped as a god ; and not without 
cause, for without the annual floods, rainless Egypt, 
fertile as it is, would be barren and lifeless. We are 
told that the periodical inundation caused by rains at 
the source of the Nile, extends from June to October. 
During this lapse of time the whole delta is flooded. 
The soil along the river's banks is thus fertilized and 
receives no further wetting until the next annual over- 
flow. 

We know sugar is one of the chief products of Egypt. 
From deck we can see several picturesque native sailing 
boats laden with the purple and green stems of the 
cane. We pass a dahabeah, one of the modern boats 
built after the model of the sailing vessels used by the 
Pharaohs of old. These dahabeahs now serve as 
conveniences for private parties, who wish to spend 
much time cruising along the Nile. 

The religion of the ancient Egyptians, the worship 
of the powers of Nature, seems already to have taken 
possession of us. Were ever air, sun, clouds, palms 
and river more lovely? We have read that one of the 
most distinctive features of the Egyptian cult is the 
idea of the transmigration of souls. If we are to reap- 
pear on earth in expiation of our sins, let us pray to 
Osiris, that we may return as birds, perhaps like the 
beautiful hoopoe with its bright crest and plumage, 
or the green and gold bee-eater, to soar amid this 
enchanting atmosphere. Our steamer drops anchor 
each night, but we find her steaming on when we be- 
come conscious of daybreak. 

The third day aboard we reach Beni Hasan, which 
name recalls to our minds Mr. Hichens' interesting 



The Cradle of Civilization 



227 



novel, "The Garden of Allah." Carrying water in 
huge jars seems to be the leading domestic duty of the 
women and girls who live in the mud huts that are 
grouped to- 
gether on the 
shore, like ant 
mounds. 

At Asyut 
(a-sybt') or Siut 
(se-dtf) , a typi- 
cal Coptic 
center, we are 
allowed time 
to go ashore 
and visit the 
many pictur- 
esque bazaars 
We are pleased 
to find that the 
American Mis- 
sion has es- 
tablished ex- 
cellent schools 
here, as wel) 
as a fully- 
equipped hos- 
pital. These so 
called Copts 
are commonly 
admitted to be 
the direct de- 
scendants of the old Egyptians. Their language is the 
keynote to the hieroglyphs. 

The temple of Seti I, one of the most beautiful 
temples in Egypt, is at Abydos. It is built of fine 
white limestone, and though once buried under " the 




[ummy Exhumed at Siut, Supposed to Have 
Been Buried About 2200 B. C. 



228 Glimpses Around the World 

sands of time," it has been excavated by Monsieur 
Mariette. The scenery en route consists of narrow 
fertile valleys enclosed by sandy bluffs or ranges of 
jagged limestone. 




Entrance to Temple of Rameses, Karnak. 



Six-days' sailing brings us to Dendera, where we go* 
ashore to view the Temple of Hathor, the Egyptian's 
Venus, the goddess of beauty. 

We reserve our energy and expressions of enthusiasm 



The Cradle of Civilization 229 

for to-morrow, when we expect to arrive at Luxor. We 
are loath to take our leave of this floating hotel. Yon- 
der groves of palms, whose tall column-like trunks 
and graceful feathered crowns are a characteristic 
feature of Nile scenery, are known as Dom palm, and 
their fruit contains the hard nut known as vegetable 
ivory. No time must be wasted for we can spend but 
two days rambling among the ruins of the ancient 
monuments, from which architecture received its 
earliest development. We find the modern town of 
Luxor well filled with travelers. 

After adjusting ourselves in a comfortable hotel, we 
engage the services of a dragoman and donkeys, and 
ride to the collection of temples called El-Karnak, the 
hugest specimen of architecture that the world knows. 
Between a long avenue of ruined sphinxes we pass, 
to reach the Grand Entrance, which faces the river. 
Leaving our donkeys outside the massive brick wall, 
we walk direct to the Great Hypostyale Hall, the 
most magnificent work of its class in Egypt. The effect 
of the forest of great columns which form an avenue 
from the entrance through the midst of the court is 
surprisingly splendid. These vast columns are carved 
with capitals to represent the lotus flower and the 
tall rush-like Egyptian plant called papyrus. We 
know not where to look, but merely stand in admiring 
amazement before these monuments that were old 
three thousand years ago. We agree with an earlier 
traveler who said, " Never in any other temple reared 
by ths hand of man, do mind and heart so feel this 
sense of the finite overwhelmed by the infinite, in 
naked dominating simplicity as here. ' ' It has been 
said that there is room for two hundred men to stand 
on the top of each of the twelve columns. Our drago- 
man tells us, "when Egyptian architecture had reached 
its zenith during the reign of Seti I and his son Rameses 



230 Glimpses Around the World 

II, these edifices were designed to awe trie people and 
kindle within their minds sentiments of wondering 
astonishment." This picturesque, ruined temple with 
its massive, weather-beaten columns adorned with 
lotus-leaf reliefs, tells us of the magnificence and power 
of the two great Pharaohs. The sculptured pictures 
and hieroglyphs of the interior walls, represent these 
kings making offerings to the gods. We have already 
become familiar with several cartouches belonging to 
the various dynasties. We recognize the symbol of 
the "key of life," and the "tree of life," and are in- 
terested to learn from Mr. Gliddon that, 

"In Egyptian hieroglyphs there are in some instances 
as many as twenty-five different characters used to 
represent one letter. By the selection of letters the 
writer could convey either a meaning of admiration, 
praise, disgust or hatred. Suppose we wished to adopt 
the same system in our language and write the word 
'AMERICA' in hieroglyphic:" " 

"A," being the first letter, we select several appro- 
priate symbols for the letter 'A," as — "asp, apple, 
altar," etc. ; — we choose the first and draw the picture 
of an "asp," which is symbolic of sovereignty, for "M" 
we select "mace," indicative of military dominion. 
"Eagle, " is undoubtedly the most appropriate for "E, " 
being the national arms of the Union, and means, 
courage. For "R" we draw the likeness of a "ram," 
and "infant" will typify the juvenile age and still un- 
developed strength of our great country, "cake," we 
choose for "C" and for the final "A," the sacred "Ian," 
the symbol of the tree for life. Then to designate that 
by this combination of symbols we mean a country, 
add the Coptic sign, "Kali" which means country. 

And here we are still admiring the great Karnak 
Temple, which is built of blocks of stone seventy feet 
in length on a platform one thousand feet long and three 



The Cradle of Civilization 231 

hundred feet wide. Just beyond is the granite obe- 
lisk one hundred and eight feet high, which according 
to Mons. Mariette, is the loftiest known monument of 
Upper Egypt. It is a monument to Queen Hatshepu, 
of the eighteenth dynasty. 

We have not time to visit all of the adjoining ruins, 
but instead we turn to Luxor to see the Temple of 
E-Uksur, or Luxor, as it is more often called. Here 
we find excavators at work. This temple has been 
found to be an appendage to the great group at Karnak. 
We cross the river to the western bank to visit the 
Tombs of the Kings, or Gates of the Kings. It is 
early morning, Nature has tried to brighten with wild 
blossoms this weird isolated place, but the flowerets 
are fast withering under the blazing rays of the sun. 
Desolation befits the burial spot chosen by the rulers 
of the nineteenth and twentieth dynasties. For the 
benefit of investigating personages, electric lights now 
penetrate several of the dark passages and lofty 
chambers. We enter the tomb of Seti I which extends 
more than three hundred feet into the limestone rock. 
We remember having seen the mummy of King Seti 
in the museum at Cairo. The interior walls are de- 
corated with very fine colored reliefs, depicting the 
awful punishments suffered by the wicked, and the 
rewards of the good, according to secret mysteries of 
the Egyptian religion. 

Though there are some dozen of these spirit houses, 
we shall but take time to visit one other that of 
Rameses III, which dates about 1200 B. C. This 
tomb is larger than the one visited first and its pictures, 
carved in low relief, many of them colored, vividly 
portray the mythology, history, and very life and 
customs of these old-time Egyptians. 

The pictures of the two giant, time-worn statues 
known as the Colossi are familiar to us. They are 



232 Glimpses Around the World 

perhaps the most striking of Egypt's wonders. We 
find them still erect, standing side by side. The one 
to the south is better preserved and is supposed to 
represent Amenhotep {a-men-ho f -te p) the builder of 




A Temple on the Bank of the Nile. 

the temple, which once stood on the green fields behind 
the statues. 

The other huge image is the Vocal Memnon, 
which is said to have formerly produced musical 
sounds at sunrise. How insignificant we feel as we 
stand here gazing. It is a fact that the action of the 



The Cradle of Civilization 



2 33 



sun and certain states of the atmosphere can produce 
sounds from particular rocks, and it was no doubt 
such a phenomenon that happened to this stone after 
it was cracked by an earthquake. Under Roman 
rulership the statue was restored, and since then no 
sounds have been heard We have learned that orig- 
inally every Egyptian town had its guardian deity, 



*w 









Colossi of Memnon. 



and Ammon, the Egyptian Jupiter, made Thebes 
his sacred city and temple headquarters. The date 
of the foundation of Thebes is unknown, and though 
we find scarcely any remains of this rival city of Mem- 
phis, whose situation was one of the best on the Nile, 
yet the sublimity of the wonderful and massive as- 
semblage of the ruins of Thebes are not equaled upon 



234 Glimpses Around the World 

"God's spinning foot-stool." We are well pleased 
with our excursion, and even though the insects have 
become almost intolerable and our arms ache as a 
result of the incessant use of the native palm shoo- 
fly, we regret that lack of time prevents us from con- 
tinuing by steamer to Assuan (ds-swdn'), the First 
Cataract. 

During the fifteen hours of railway travel, as we 
return to Cairo, we muse upon the dynasties of kings, 
each numbering hundreds, who have ruled over this 
country, of the countless generations that have lived 
and died, leaving behind them nothing but the ruins 
of their temples and their tombs. Why this decline?- 

We are no other than a moving row of magic shadow shapes that 
come and go. 

Rawiinson claims, the decline was especially caused 
by the spirit of " caste, " for he says, "It is true that 
caste, in the strict sense of the word, did not exist in 
Egypt; since a son was not absolutely compelled to 
follow his father's profession, but the separation of 
classes was so sharply and clearly defined, and heredi- 
tary descent of professions was so much the rule, that 
the system closely approximated to that which has 
been so long established in India. ' ' 

We are convinced from our observation that these 
conditions are the greatest curse of India at the present 
day. The recognition of caste means humiliation, 
suppression, lack of progress and improvement, and 
finally downfall. We pray to God to bless our own 
dear native country, where all men are born free and 
equal. 

Yonder the camels are solemnly marching in single 
file. Veiled women in flowing garments are carrying 
huge water jars upon their heads. They pause while 
our train passes through the station. There a dark- 



The Cradle of Civilization 235 

skinned Moslem is kneeling with face turned toward 
Mecca, while he performs his devotion to Allah. 

Thanks to the excellent work done by modern 
archaeologists, we have become familiar not only with 
the names of the Egyptian kings, but we have been able 
to view their "spirit houses" and study the very 
pictures of their wars. These ancient aristocrats spent 
their time and money preparing elaborate tombs. 
Now, we find conditions and ideas have changed; for 
once more in Cairo we visit the home of a wealthy 
Egyptian, whose house is elaborately built in arabesque 
style, with windows shaded by protecting cornices of 
graceful woodwork, and ornamented with stained glass. 
We follow a winding passage, which leads through the 
ornamental doorway into a court; in the center is 
a fountain, shaded with palm trees. The principal 
apartment we find paved with marble, a gaily-decorated 
lantern is suspended over the fountain, and around the 
sides of the court are richly inlaid cabinets and windows 
of stained glass. Here in a recess is a divan, a long 
narrow cushioned seat. The upper story of the house- 
hold we are not allowed to visit, that is the harem. 

We take a fond adieu of Cairo, in the hopes of revisit- 
ing this alluring African capital, to bask again in its 
health-giving atmosphere. 

He who hath not seen Cairo hath not seen the world; its soil is gold; 
its Nile is a wonder; its women are like the black-eyed virgins of Para- 
dise; its houses are palaces, and its air is soft; its odor surpassing 
that of aloes-wood and cheering the heart; and how can Cairo be oth- 
erwise when it is the Mother of the World. 

An express train in four and one -half hours lands us 
again in Port Said. The Eastern Exchange Hotel 
furnishes us accommodations, and though our guide- 
book records no plan of sight-seeing at this great coaling 
station, we spend a pleasant afternoon visiting the 
many curio shops, which contain a collection of Orien- 



236 Glimpses Around the World 

tal and Occidental wares. We are appreciative of the 
extensive display of "things Japanese." 

We have purchased tickets for our entire tour to 
Palestine, and to-morrow we sail on the "steamship Ori- 
noque, Maritime Messagerie, for Joppa. Preparatory 
to our sea trips we partake of food sparingly, especi- 
ally when we are inclined to feel that our stomachs 
will not be constant. 

Before leaving shore we must visit the Health 
Bureau, but here, unlike our experience at Bombay, 
we merely pass before the officer in charge. 

In tiny row boats we reach the steamer which is 
lying some quarter of a mile out at sea. We find most 
of the first cabin passengers are Americans and for this 
reason the upper deck is well filled with hawkers who 
somehow have a particular liking for Yankees. 
Silk Maltese lace, hand-made into berthas, jackets, 
collars and mats, ostrich feathers and plumes, souvenir 
spoons, postal cards, photographs and a varied assort- 
ment of useless articles are thrust upon us from the time 
of our arrival on board in the afternoon until at twi- 
light, when our steamer's anchor is raised and we set 
out for the Holy Land. 



CHAPTER X 

The Land of Kings and Prophets 

■ This is the land the spirit knows 
That everlastingly 
With milk and honey overflows — 
And such its fruit shall be. 

Solomon Ibn Gebirol. 

A FTER a night of tossing and pitching on the Medi- 
/-% terranean where mal de mer is prevalent among 
passengers, we find our steamer anchored about 
two miles from the shore of Palestine. A severe storm 
is raging. We are told the Joppa oarsmen will not risk 
crossing to us in their rowboats. Unless the white 
squalls diminish, and the wind subsides, we shall be 
obliged to stay aboard, and go up to Haifa or even to 
Beyrout. This report is not encouraging, for before 
leaving Port Said we learned that at present northern 
Palestine and Syria are snow-bound. We sit on deck, 
our steamer tossing and rocking in the swelling open 
sea; for it is a recognized fact, Joppa 's harbor is the 
worst in the world. We can see the distant yellow 
sands of the Philistian plain, the Judean hills veiled 
in their delicate mist, and the town of Joppa, standing 
out on its projecting headland, rising up house above 
house. 

Late in the afternoon mere atoms are seen tossing 
on the enraged sea. As they approach we find them 
to be two small Levantine coasting vessels, the only 
kind that can make their way among the dangerous 
rocks that encircle the landing place. These rocks are 
not unknown to us, for we remember according to 

( 2 37) 



238 Glimpses Around the World 

classical mythology, the beautiful Andromeda was 
chained to them by her father, the king of the country, 
to satisfy the raging sea monster who had devoured 
many seafarers in these waters, and how the fair 
maiden was rescued by the brave Perseus, who after- 
ward married her. 

Among the passengers on board our steamer is the 




Our First Glimpses of the Holy Land. 



Patriarch of Jerusalem who was lately commissioned 
by His Holiness, Pope Pius X, at Rome. The reverend 
gentleman will try to land, regardless of the hazard, 
and we decide to go with him. There is much noise 
and confusion on the small boats as they near the 
steamer. As we descend the gang-plank, single file, 
a strong Syrian oarsman lifts us up in his brawny arms 



The Land of Kings and Prophets 239 

and tosses each of us, heavy and light weights alike, 
as if we were merely rag dolls, into the arms of a second 
boatman who carries us into the stern of one of the 
small Levantine vessels. We are dazed, and too weak 
to realize the perils of the trip. There are nine oars- 
men aboard, and the tenth man, who serves as leader 
of the crew, stands at the rear and gives the signal when 
our struggling craft can cut its way through the angry 
waves that dash so high we cannot see above them. 
With every third wave we ride over and as we do so, 
the faithful boatmen chant their weird prayer to 
Allah. We too offer thanks when, at the end of the 
longest twenty minutes we have ever experienced, we 
find we have passed between the belt of dangerous 
rocks, and are now landing on the populated promon- 
tory of Jerusalem's harbor. People standing along 
the shore seem awe-stricken at the sight of our perilous 
ride. 

The landing is lined with Turkish soldiers, who have 
come to salute and escort the Reverend Patriarch, who 
offers a benediction as he steps ashore, in his long 
flowing black robe, red velvet skull cap and massive 
signet-ring. Representatives for Abdul Hamid the 
Sultan of Turkey, King Alphonso of Spain, and 
Victor Emanuel of Italy, greet His Highness. We 
must show our vised passports to the attending 
official before we are allowed to pass along the 
narrow stone lane and out into the city of Joppa. 

Our dragoman, Mitri by name, who will serve us as 
guide for the Palestine tour, engages a carriage and we 
drive to a hotel. This is the tourists' season, and 
Jaffa, as it is sometimes called, is overcrowded, the 
storm having allowed no exit to travelers. We are 
thankful to find even meager accommodations at the 
Bella Vista Hotel, which overlooks the now raging sea. 
We partake of food and retire to cold, damp rooms by 



240 Glimpses Around the World 

the light of a candle, to sleep, aye, to dream away our 
first night spent in the Holy Land. 

In the morning we find the sea more calm, and the 
passengers who wish to leave Palestine are able to get 
aboard their steamers. We shall spend the morning 
sight-seeing in this city, which, according to tradition, 
is the oldest in the world. Joppa has been alternately 
ruled by Pagan, Jew, Moslem, Arab, Mameluke and 
Christian. It has been plundered and ravished by 
war, it has been swept by pestilence, fire and sword, 
rebuilt, walled and fortified only to be destroyed. 

The smiling sun ever proves our friend and this 
morning Helios (sun) and his sister Eos (dawn) looking 
down from Mt. Olympos, make the far-famed gardens 
of Joppa especially lovely. The joy of the transition 
from the discomforts of the ship and hospice make 
these cheery gardens a veritable paradise. We agree 
with the commentator who said, " The gardens of 
Joppa with their mingled perfume of oranges, apples, 
apricots, quince and plums are enchanting. " 

Our dragoman engages a carriage and we drive to 
the "House of Simon the Tanner, by the sea." The 
house though comparatively modern is situated in the 
midst of a tanning district. These same conditions 
no doubt existed when, according to the Bible, Saint 
Peter beheld the vision, which led to the first preaching 
of the gospel to the Gentiles. On the outskirts of the 
town we are shown the so-called Home of Tabitha or 
Dorcas, "the woman full of good works and of alms 
deeds, ' ' whose tomb is marked by a group of sycamore 
trees near her house. Was not Peter at Lydda, when 
he received word that the good Tabitha was dead? 
" He came and prayed and Tabitha opened her eyes. " 

Perhaps the liveliest place in Joppa is the market, 
where the venders, men in turbans and women whose 
faces are veiled, sit in the shade with their wares and 



The Land of Kings and Prophets 241 

produce spread out before them. Are they trying to 
see who can make the greatest amount of noise? We 
pass a large Hebrew mission ' school and an English 
hospital, and take the midday train for the Holy 
City, which lies fifty-three miles inland. 

Traversing the fertile plain of Sharon, our train 
makes a brief stop at the station of Lydda. Our 
dragoman reminds us that St. George, the patron 
saint of England, is buried here in his native town, 
where, according to the Scripture, Peter found a sick 
man named ^neas, whom he cured of the palsy. The 
station of Ramleh,' suggests the Crusades. The 
scenery changes. Our train passes through and around 
rocky heights, on which century-old olive trees are 
growing. Lovely wild anemones peep up through the 
crevices in the gray limestone rocks and add their 
cheering welcome. 

After a warm dusty ride of four hours we approach 
the large and busy city of Jerusalem. We can already 
see the summit of the Mount of Olives, while here, 
outside the walls of the Holy City, is a good-sized Euro- 
pean colony. Let us abide by the suggestion of the 
dear old song, and as our train halts at the station and 
we pass through the motley crowd of hotel runners 
and guides, we will lift our voices and sing, " Jerusalem, 
Hosanna in the Highest." 

Accommodations have been engaged for our party 
at the Hospice of Notre Dame, situated just outside 
the New Gate. Though under the supervision of 
French friars, we find the large stone structure a busy 
tourists' center. The spacious corridors, dining salon 
and reading room are supplied with electric lights, 
but our respective chambers are bare of anything that 
might suggest luxury. What though bed and board 
are meager, our heart-beats quicken when we realize 
we are in the city of Jerusalem, which since the earliest 



242 Glimpses Around the World 

dawn of history has played such an important part 
in the fortunes and affairs of nearly every country in 
the world. The Jerusalem of to-day has a unique 
charm among Oriental cities. 

It will take us perhaps an hour to walk around the 
present wall of the city, which encloses about two hun- 
dred acres of holy ground. Though we may not accept 
each exact spot, with the same fervor as the devout 
pilgrims, we are certain that Scriptural kings, priests, 
prophets and holy men once moved about through these 
streets. "These streets?" one of our party inquires, 
and the modern archaeologist tells us, that while the 
original city has suffered no less than two dozen sieges, 
and endured many reconstructions, it is probable that 
the present surface of the streets are forty or fifty feet 
above the primary level. The present enclosure is 
divided into five districts or quarters : to the northwest 
lies the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in the Christian 
Quarter, just east are the Mohammedans, and beyond 
is Mount Moriah, the Haram Esh Sherif, or the Temple 
Area, south of here lies the Jewish Quarter and west 
the Armenian District. Occidental influences are 
recognizable in all districts; for the people who surge 
along the thoroughfares to-day present an incongruous 
appearance in their varied costume, half native, half 
European. 

We decide to first visit the Temple Area, and accord- 
ing to Ottoman authorities our dragoman must pro- 
cure the services of the American consular attendant, 
as well as those of a Turkish official, before we are 
permitted to enter the noble sanctuary. The Ameri- 
canism of our consular attendant consists of a navy 
blue coat elaborately decorated with our national 
emblem. The man speaks no English and forgetful 
of the character he represents adds his plea for "back- 
shish. " In a comfortable carriage we enter the city 



The Land of Kings and Prophets 243 

"by the Jaffa Gate; there is the Tower of David, now 
the Citadel of the Turkish Government, and here the 
great Suk, or market. It is yet early forenoon and 
the groups of laden donkeys attended by shrieking 
peasant boys blockade the narrow passages. The 
dirty neglected look of the sallow-faced people who 
live within the congestion of the city, contrasts strongly 
with the appearance of the picturesque robust fel- 
lahtn, or peasants. Groups of lazy-looking Turkish 
soldiers seem to lounge in every cafe. As we drive 
through a dingy, dirty street just wide enough for our 
•carriage to pass, our guide tells us this is known as the 
Cotton Merchants' Bazaar. Before the beginning of 
navigation around the Cape of Good Hope, Jerusalem 
was the commercial center for cotton, and in these 
now forsaken booths was the market. The Gate of 
the Cotton Merchants leads us into the Temple Enclo- 
sure. A flight of steps, a ruined archway, and we 
stand before the Mohammedan Mosque of Omar, whose 
dome now encloses the summit of Mount Moriah. 
Before we become conscious of the material beauty of 
the present structure, our minds revert to the child- 
hood of the world, when Abraham climbed the un- 
touched height of Mount Moriah and offered his be- 
loved son Isaac as a sacrifice to the Lord. 

We think how the great plague, which fell upon 
Israel was stayed at this spot. Was it not here that 
David saw the Angel with a drawn sword stretched 
over the Holy City? The magnificence of Solomon's 
Temple it is difficult for us to conceive. The sacred 
annals tell us that when the unparalled edifice was com- 
pleted ; 

"No representation of man, no statue to the Deity 
was seen within, no idol or sacred animal profaned it, 
there was no symbol of Jehovah whose dwelling place 
was in the heavens. His presence was everywhere, 



244 Glimpses Around the World 

and He alone reigned as King of Kings and Lord of 
Lords forever." 

Comparing this idea with the various idolatrous 
religions, whose thoughts and customs have been 
practiced during all epochs, and with specimens of 
which we have become familiar during our travels, 
we are convinced that "there is nothing new in the 
world. ' ' This ancient Hebrew thought is but the 
universal reform idea of religion to-day. Let us hope 
that each chord played by the various creeds may 
assist in producing a symphony of love, peace on earth 
and good will towards men, which shall some day be a 
realization of the millennium. 

After the destruction of the Temple, history records 
a succession of structures erected on this site by Herod, 
Hadrian and the Crusaders, and in the course of time 
the Mussulmans became its conquerors. 

It was they who erected this octagonal- shaped and 
far-famed Dome of the Rock, upon which we are 
now privileged to gaze. The brightly-colored tiles, 
especially the blue ones, which are said to be almost 
priceless, the intricate figures of Arabic inscription, 
the painted windows, and the graceful dome sur- 
mounted by the gilded crescent, which we saw shining 
above the group of tall cypresses during our "wall- 
walk, ' ' make this the most typically Oriental building 
we have ever beheld. An attending Mohammedan 
priest binds our feet with rough wrappings, and we 
enter on the northern side through the "Gate of Para- 
dise." There in the center is the rough mass of rock, 
measuring fifty-six feet long and forty-two feet wide 
and surrounded by a richly-wrought railing. This 
Rock of Ages remains, except for the steps cut on it 
by the Crusaders, as Nature made it in the beginning, 
" the altar of God. ' ' The interior of the mosque is but 
faintly illuminated, but as our eyes become accustomed 



The Land of Kings and Prophets 245 

to the "religious light, " we are able to view the elab- 
orate mosaics and paintings, which decorate the 
splendid marble pillars and side chapels that are con- 
nected by beautiful arches. While some half a dozen 
loitering guides, who have attempted to tell us the 
most absurd stories corresponding to every crack and 
scratch in the stones, beg piteously for "backshish," 




Mosque of Omar. 

we hurriedly make our exit at the eastern doorway, 
which is known as the Gate of the Cham Just 
adjoining is the diminutive structure of the Mosque 
of Omar. Our dragoman tells us the Arab architect 
erected this so-called " Dome of the Cham, " as a model 
for the large Dome of the Rock. Devout Moslem 
believe that King David by divine direction held his 
law courts here. A chain was once let down from 



246 Glimpses Around the World 

heaven and when a witness was called to give evidence, 
he was required to take hold of this chain with his two 
hands. If the testimony was true, nothing happened ; 
if false, one link would fall off the chain. 

Passing through this decorated archway and des- 
cending a flight of stone steps we pass a fountain 
known in Arabic as El-Kas, which means "the cup,'" 




Leaving the Site of Solomon's Temple. 



and which marks the site of the reservoir constructed 
for the ablution of the Temple ritual. Just beyond 
is the magnificent Mosque El Aksa, which though 
originally a Christian church was captured by Saladin. 
While viewing the interior, our guide shows us the 
exquisite pulpit made of rare woods and inlaid with 
ivory and mother-of-pearl, which the great Egyptian 



The Land of Kings and Prophets 247 

ruler presented, as a memento of his conquest. We 
shall follow Mitri, our guide, across a spacious paved 
court and down a dark stone staircase to Solomon's 
Stables. We find a series of damp, cold, subterranean 
passages formed by massive columns and arches, 
that no doubt support the pavement above. The 
vaults are supposed to have been able to hold two 
thousand horses, and were no doubt used as stables at 
the time of the Crusaders. It is enjoyment, when 
we again reach the surface of the roadway and are 
conscious of the warm caressing sunbeams. Yonder 
closed portal is the Golden Gate, through which Jesus 
passed when he made His triumphant entry from 
Bethany to Jerusalem, and the disciples, throwing 
palms upon His path, cried " Hosanna. " 

As we retrace our steps to the carriage, we see an 
old Mohammedan woman with veiled face, who is sit- 
ting on the grass busily crocheting dainty lace. As 
we smile at her, she points to some of her wares, which 
lie bleaching on the grass near her. Though we can- 
not understand her language, pantomime serves as an 
efficient means for bargaining. Once more we are 
rolling over the uneven, stony pavement, to take our 
noonday rest. 

At two o'clock we resume our seats in the carriage, 
and start on our pilgrimage to one of the oldest cities 
in Palestine — Bethlehem. 

They speak to me of princely Tyre, that old Phoenician gem, 

Great Sidon's daughter of the north, but I will speak of Bethlehem. 

They speak of Rome and Babylon ; what can compare with them? 

So let them praise their pride and pomp; but I will speak of Bethlehem. 

They praise the hundred-gated Thebes, Old Mizraim's diadem, 

The city of the Sand-girt Nile, but I will speak of Bethlehem. " 

As we leave the city of Jerusalem we pass the British 
hospital, recognized as a worthy non-sectarian institu- 
tion, and while following a picturesque road to the 



248 



Glimpses Around the World 



south, our dragoman calls attention to this wayside 
Well. 

Here the wise men from the East sat down to rest, 
weary and perhaps discouraged in their efforts to find 
the " King of the Jews. " Suddenly, stooping forward 
and looking down into this Well, they saw the reflection 
of the heavenly apparition which had brought them 




The Well of the Magi. 



to Jerusalem, and then according to St. Matthew ii: 9, 
" Lo, the star, which they saw in the East, went before 
them, till it came and stood over where the young 
child was. ' ' 

As we reach the crest of the nearby hill we see the 
Convent of Mar Elias. "Listen!" our dragoman says, 
pointing to a large stone by the roadside, " Here 
Elijah rested during his flight." Though we have 



The Land of Kings and Prophets 249 

perhaps forgotten the prophesy of Israel's famine, 
the sublime Elijah has at least made an indelible im- 
pression upon this concrete mineral matter, for we 
can see the indentation of a human body of dispropor- 
tionate size, which has been labeled "ELIJAH." 

According to the Scriptures, Genesis xxxv : 19-20, 
" Rachael died, and was buried in the way to Ephrath, 
which is Beth-lehem. And Jacob set a pillar upon her 
grave: that is the pillar of Rachael's grave unto this 
day. ' ' We are halting before a comparatively modern 
square structure surmounted by a central dome, which, 
instead of the original pillar, now marks the undis- 
puted site where the good Jacob buried his favorite 
wife. There is no admittance to the interior, and we 
continue our drive. 

In about a half an hour we reach the home of Naomi, 
the birthplace of Boaz, David, and Jesus, which stands 
among the hills of Judea. Passing through the narrow 
cobblestone paved streets we meet a group of smiling 
Bethlehem dames whose tall, quaint, white head-dress 
suits them well. The Church of the Nativity is our 
goal. The structure which was erected by Constantine 
and dedicated to St. Mary, is situated in a broad open 
square, and looks like a great fortress. There seems 
to be no doubt as to the genuineness of the site of 
this, the oldest existing church in Christendom which 
can boast of an uninterrupted Christian worship. We 
are told that the exceptionally small, inconvenient 
doorway, through which we pass, was built thus to 
guard the sacred precincts against the sudden invasion 
of enemies. It is said that Empress Helena, the 
mother of Constantine, persuaded her son to erect 
this building in the shape of a Latin Cross, over the 
spot where Jesus was born. 

The church is now the property of three sects — 
Armenian, Greek, and Latin. The nave, with its fine 



250 Glimpses Around the World 

old columns and mosaics, is separated from the rest 
of the church by a stone screen. We find the altar 
decorated with costly lamps, which have been presented 
by various personages from all parts of the world. 

Descending a short flight of steps, we enter the sacred 
Grotto, which is dimly lighted by the soft rays of 
thirty-two hanging lamps. The crypt measures about 
forty feet in length, which is perhaps three times its 
width. In the recess of the Grotto fifteen lamps are 
hanging, of which our guide says, " six belong to the 
Greeks, five to the Armenians and four to the Latins. ' ' 
In the floor of this niche a silver star has been placed ; 
on it we read, " Hie de Virgine Maria Jesus -Christus 
Natus est ' ' — Here Jesus Christ was born of the Virgin 
Mary. The Grotto belongs to no sect or denomination, 
but is the property of the Christian world. Though 
we can see the natural rock of the cave, the Grotto 
has been converted into a chapel. As we pass on to 
the spot which is marked as the site of the manger, a 
group of Russian pilgrims enter. They immediately 
fall upon the floor of the cave, kissing and rubbing 
the cold rock with heathenish devotion. Their pre- 
sence causes the air to become oppressive, and we are 
satisfied to pass on into the adjoining chapels; one of 
which was erected to commemorate the massacre 
of the Bethlehem children by the command of Herod; 
and another chamber cut out of the solid rock contains 
ancient pictorial representations of the dream of Joseph, 
in which the Angel orders him to flee into Egypt with 
Mary and the child. 

Again in the street our dragoman leads the way a 
short distance down the road to what is known as the 
"Milk Grotto." Passing through a courtyard we de- 
scend a flight of steps beautifully inlaid with mother- 
of-pearl, into a grotto of light-colored stone. Every- 
thing about looks modern, and we can hardly keep 



The Land of Kings and Prophets 251 

from smiling when Mitri explains, that it was here that 
the Virgin, while nursing the infant Jesus, dropped 
one drop of her holy milk, and suddenly all of the rock 
of this grotto became a light, milky color, such as we 
see now. An old woman attendant offers to sell us a 
bit of the precious white rock. Though we consider 
the price exorbitant, we do not doubt that many 
worshiping pilgrims will offer their last coin in exchange 
for such a precious souvenir. 

The fertility of the soil causes the olive groves and 
vineyards to grow in abundance, and perhaps this is 
why the town was named Bethlehem, which in Hebrew 
means " House of Bread. " 

The village shopkeepers have already learned of our 
arrival and urgently invite us to see their displays of 
souvenirs. Chiefly characteristic are the mother-of- 
pearl carvings, which are skilfully executed by many 
of the male members of Bethlehemite families. 

Our carriage is ready and we drive back to Jerusalem 
in time for dinner. We are indeed fortunate. This 
evening Dr. Wheeler, the resident secretary of the 
Palestine Exploration Fund, who has made Jerusalem 
his home for the past twenty years, will lecture before 
an English delegation. We are invited to attend the 
meeting, which will be held in the salon of our hotel. 
The speaker tells us: 

The climates of all zones are experienced in the area 
of the Holy Land; Joppa and the Jordan district are 
tropical, the high altitude of Jerusalem is temperate, 
while the more northern cities of Haifa and Damascus 
are quite frigid during the winter season. Indeed it 
seems as though God focused everything in and about 
Jerusalem. This land seems to be eternal, for with- 
standing the twenty-four sieges, it is to-day in a 
flourishing, prosperous condition. The present walls 
of the city are about four hundred years old. 



252 Glimpses Around the World 

Dr. Wheeler says, " though the Jews allow no census 
to be taken, it is recorded that there are not less than 
forty-six thousand Jews in Jerusalem to-day. The 
power of the Jew is his moral power. Saturday was 
left alone to be married to Israel and therefore it is 
their Sabbath. Cohens, or priests, among the ortho- 
dox, are the only Jews who are allowed to give the 
blessing. Their rank is equal to that of the Brah- 
man in India. The Jews are seldom converted, and it 
is marvelous that a race who have been persecuted for 
centuries should survive all. " Dr. Wheeler also tells us, 
" Recent work has been satisfactorily done by the 
Palestine Exploration Fund in the ancient royal 
Canaanite city of Gezer, the pre-historic, which was 
first occupied by a cave-dwelling race in the 'Stone 
Age' of culture, and probably dates back about three 
thousand years before Christ." At the close of the 
very interesting discourse we are enthused with the 
excellent work accomplished; the wonderful amount 
of information respecting the civilization, history and 
religion of Palestine and its excavations, which has 
been revealed 'through the efforts of Dr. Wheeler and 
other members of the worthy association known as the 
Palestine Exploration Fund. We offer them our 
hearty thanks and cooperation. 

An earlier traveler has warned us when preparing 
for our visit to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, to 
make a hard and fast vow to leave all cheap rational- 
istic sagacity at home, and rather watch and try to enter 
into the feelings of the swarms of pious Russian pil- 
grims. This morning we follow our dragoman through 
the Damascus Gate, the handsomest and most striking 
of the five gates of the city, and walking in narrow 
winding streets, between walls as old as the Cru- 
sades, we reach Christian Street, the principal busi- 
ness thoroughfare. We pass eastward through a 



The Land of Kings and Prophets 253 

narrow alley lined with booths devoted to the selling 
of objects of Christian devotion; shining gilt crosses, 
religious lamps, images and small objects made of 
olive-wood and mother-of-pearl, and descending a 
series of steps into a limestone court, we reach the 
southern facade of the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, 
which is thought to be almost in the center of the city. 

Empress Helena founded this cathedral, which is 
now recognized to be the most sacred edifice on earth, 
as an object of sentiment and affection. Russian 
pilgrims are grouped in front of us, and groups of Rus- 
rian pilgrims are walking behind us. The men are 
old and sordid looking, gray-haired moujiks, and 
the women, bundled in old clothing and leaning on 
canes, are at least sexagenarians. 

This f agade is a beautiful piece of architectural work. 
There are two enormous doors of twelfth-century 
workmanship, and above each is a window. Only one 
of these doors is in use, that to the right having been 
sealed up with masonry. We pass into the shadow of 
the vestibule, where several Turkish guards, armed as 
if for battle, are reclining on a. large divan. We are told 
this office of door-keeper is a hereditary position en- 
joyed by a certain Arabian family living in Jerusalem. 
As we look beyond, all seems shrouded in deepest 
shadows. There are discordant voices which echo 
and reecho in sepulchral resonance. The perfume of 
incense, and innumerable twinkling lights are discern- 
ible, and the atmosphere is damp and chilling. 

We find ourselves standing before the Stone of 
Unction. Eight large hanging lamps belonging to 
different creeds are suspended over the present marble 
slab, which was laid here in 1810. The continual 
stream of prostrating, fanatical pilgrims has necessi- 
tated the use of several stone slabs since the erection 
of this sacred edifice. In a dimly-lighted recess to the 



254 Glimpses Around the World 

left, an iron railing encloses the stone where, according 
to Mark xv 147, "'the two Marys beheld where Jesus 
was laid". Our guide shows us the pillar which marks 
the exact center of the earth, as well as the spot from 
which was taken the dust out of which Adam was made. 

And now we shall enter the Rotunda, with its high 
cupola, to visit the Chapel of the Holy Sepulcher, the 
very heart of this mass of chapels. We must stoop 
low, or we cannot pass through the diminutive doorway 
into "this holy kiosk." Fifteen lamps are always 
burning in this Chapel of the Angel, which contains a 
fragment of the stone that closed the mouth of the 
Sepulcher. On the north and south walls are cir- 
cular openings, perhaps a foot in diameter, from which 
it is said, fire bursts forth on the Saturday before 
Easter of each year. The chamber beyond, which is 
just large enough to acommodate four persons, contains 
the marble tomb.. We cannot pass into the inner- 
most shrine, until the four passionate devotees, who 
are in advance of us, shall finish their tearful worship 
and make their reluctant exit. 

We visit several of the almost countless chapels, 
that occupy the niches around the Sepulcher, all of 
which are laden with traditional tales pertaining to 
the life cf Jesus Christ. With lighted tapers we de- 
scend a flight of broken steps to the Chapel of St. Helena. 
We no sooner enter the seemingly desolate shrine than 
we become conscious that the indiscernible objects are 
actual living creatures, who are afflicted with all the 
horrible sufferings known to exist. Wailing cries of 
distress cause us hurriedly to scatter a few coins, and 
flee from this Hadean station. We trust time will 
erase these ghastly scenes from our memory. 

Yonder rises the Rock of Calvary, "the veritable 
place of prostrations and sobs for the crowd. ' ' There 
are two chapels at this sanctuary; the one belonging 



The Land of Kings and Prophets 255 

to the Greeks, "is as resplendent as a rainbow," 
arrayed in costly hangings, the gifts of many nations. 
The Latin chapel marks the spot where Christ was 
nailed to the cross. Visiting the Altar of Adam we 
are allowed to peep through an iron grating to see the 
cleft in the Rock of Calvary, where, according to a 
very early tradition, "Adam was buried at Golgotha; 
and the blood of Christ flowing down through the cleft 
is supposed to have fallen on the skull of the first man 
and raised him to life. This last tradition is believed 
to be the origin of the skull represented beneath the feet 
of Christ on the crucifix. ' ' We linger about the gor- 
geous Chapel of Golgotha watching the bands of poor 
yet ardent worshiping pilgrims, who in their sincerity 
command our sympathy. With Pierre Loti we say, 
"May this strange, unique place, which is called the 
Holy Sepulcher be blessed though contestable, — even 
fictitious if you please — but whither, for fifteen cen- 
turies, afflicted multitudes have run, where hardened 
hearts have melted like the snow. ' ' 

Let us engage a carriage and drive to the Via Dolo- 
rosa, the "pathway of pain," over which Jesus bore 
His cross to the place of crucifixion. Our guide says 
there are fourteen stations along the " Way of Sorrow, " 
and they are each marked by tablets in the walls. 

1. Turkish Barracks. 2. Foot of stairs leading to 
Judgment Hall. 3. A broken Column near the Aus- 
trian Hospice, where Jesus fell under the cross. 4. 
Near house of Lazarus where Jesus met his mother. 
5. Near house of Dives where Simon of Cyrene took 
up the cross. 6. House of St. Veronica. 7. Where 
Via Dolorosa crosses the street from Damascus Gate. 
8. Monastery of St. Caralombos where Jesus addressed 
the women, " Daughters of Jerusalem weep not for 
me." 9. Where Jesus fell the third time, in front of 
the Coptic convent. 10. Church of the Holy Sepul- 



256 



Glimpses Around the World 



cher. 11. Where Jesus was nailed to the cross. 12. 
Place where the cross was raised. 13. Where Jesus' 
body was taken down from the cross. 14. The Sepul- 
cher in which He was buried. 

We leave the city by St. Stephen's Gate and passing 




Entrance to the Tomb of the Virgin Mary. 



along through the lovely Valley of Jehoshaphat we 
visit the Tomb of the Virgin. 

We pass through the arched entrance and descending 
a broad flight of marble steps, we follow our dragoman 
to the underground chapels and shrine, which we are 
told are the tombs of the Virgin Mary, Joseph, and of 
Mary's parents. 

A path from the tomb of the Virgin to the Garden 
of Gethsemane is lined with the crouching figures of the 



The Land of Kings and Prophets 257 

poor isolated creatures upon whom the fearful curse of 
leprosy has fallen. We hurry past, lest these sufferers 
in their agonizing appeal for "backshish" may become 
frantic and come too near us with their contagion of 
unsightly ulcerations. 

It is a relief to find ourselves within the walls of the 
beautiful Garden of Gethsemane, which belongs to the 
Franciscan Monks. For sixteen hundred years this 
sacred spot has been recognized by devout Christians 
as the place where Jesus prayed at the time of His 
agony shortly before His death. The garden, which 
occupies about an acre of ground, is shaded by several 
old olive trees. As we walk along the pathway, we 
pause before the little carved and painted shrines 
which represent Jesus passing through the fourteen 
stations of the Via Dolorosa. 

Again in our carriage we ascend the picturesque 
Mount of Olives, whose chalky rocks are dotted with 
olive trees, that have stood unchanged for centuries. 
A glimpse at the little court "Pater Noster, " where 
Christ is said to have taught His disciples the Lord's 
Prayer, reveals thirty-two stone slabs on which the 
Lord's Prayer is translated in as many languages. 

The nearby Tombs of Jewish Prophets, enclosed 
by a fence, we find crumbling into ruins. Visiting 
the Tombs of the Judean Kings we crawl into the 
vaulted chambers, where, by the aid of our lighted 
tapers, we view the archaeologists' work. Seventy 
receptacles cut out of solid rock have been discovered, 
and are thought to be the family catacombs of Helena, 
Queen of Adiabene. It was once said to be easier to 
find a god than a man in Athens, and so, without 
exaggeration, the tombs of Jerusalem are far more 
numerous than the houses. The deep valleys around 
the city, and side hills in every direction, are honey- 
combed with graves. 



258 Glimpses Around the World 

The house of Caiaphas marks the spot where Peter 
stood when he denied Christ, and where the cock crew. 
From here we traverse a crooked byway to the build- 
ings known as the Tomb of David and other Kings of 
Judea. We must gain the consent of the Moslem 
attendant before we are allowed to ascend a flight of 
stairs to the Coenaculum, or Upper Chamber, the 
place where the "Last Supper" was held. Mitri 
points to the very stone on which Jesus sat. As we 
gaze about the room, which looks like part of a medi- 
aeval church, we recall Leonardo da Vinci's conception 
of the "Last Supper," and notice that the design of 
this vaulted ceiling corresponds with that of the pic- 
torial masterpiece. An extra fee to the Moslem 
attendant admits us to an ante-chamber, where we 
gaze upon a red, but almost thread-bare, cloth of em- 
broidery, which veils the sarcophagus of David. 

Near the Damascus Gate we find the exposed lime- 
stone cliff, whose rugged outline suggests a skull. 

Many worshipers agree with General Gordon's theory 
and believe this spot to be the site of Calvary. Though 
the summit of the hill now belongs to the Moslem, the 
Garden-tomb below is in the possession of Englishmen. 

In the bright early morning we start on a carriage 
tour to Hebron, one of the four sacred Jewish cities of 
the Holy Land. We drive over the same road which 
leads to Bethlehem as far as Rachael's tomb, and then 
turning to the right we pass over a tract of country 
full of vineyards, olive groves and orchards. In the 
distance we can see the remains of Solomon's Pools, 
which once supplied Jerusalem with water. Several 
times during our four-hours' drive the horses stop to 
rest, and we take advantage of the halt by gathering 
the lovely naming wild anemones and poppies, that 
grow like a velvety carpet over this almost treeless 
limestone country. Limestone, as it pulverizes, causes 



The Land of Kings and Prophets 259 

fertility and thus assists in the cultivation of the famous 
vineyards and groves about Hebron. 

It is noon when we reach the city, and we shall go 
direct to the best hotel in this, one of the most ancient 
cities in the world, whose foundation we are told, 
' ' is lost in the hoary mists of antiquity. ' ' 

The Jewish proprietor, his good wife, and their 









































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Main Entrance to the Best Hotel in Hebron. 



Mohammedan serving woman greet us. We have 
brought our luncheon from Jerusalem, but partake of 
the refreshments under the shelter of this Inn. The 
streets of Hebron are narrow, exceedingly dirty and 
often crossed by long dark passages, so that it is with 
difficulty that we make our way to the Haram, the 
building which, by joint consent of Christian, Mo- 



260 



Glimpses Around the World 



hammedan and Jewish tradition, supported by the 
conclusions of modern scholarship, encloses the cave 
of Machpelah, the last resting place of Abraham and 
Sarah, Isaac and Rebecca, Jacob and Leah. 

"The remarkable external structure is indeed the 
work of Jewish hands, erected around the sepulcher 
of their revered progenitors. ' ' Not until we reach the 




Ancient Pool of David. 

Turkish Mosque, which now encloses the graves of the 
great patriarchal family, are we aware that only with 
very few exceptions, are others than followers of Mo- 
hammed admitted to the tombs. We are greatly 
disappointed, after having traveled so far, to be 
allowed to view only the outer wall, and think of the 
more fortunate Stanley, who, after visiting the interior, 



The Land of Kings and Prophets 261 

said he was convinced that amid this massive stone 
enclosure sleep "the friend of God and his descendants. " 

We walk to the ancient pool, where according to II 
Samuel iv : 12, the murderers of Ishbosheth were hanged 
by David. 

Hebronite water-carriers, similar to those we have 
seen in India, are coming to the ancient reservoir 




Our Bedouin Escort. 



to fill their goat-skin receptacles. Troops of filthy 
shrieking children follow us through the dirty streets, 
and we are happy to find ourselves again en route to 
Jerusalem. Let us try to forget the Hebron of to-day, 
and instead remember the city where David held court 
for seven years. 

It is Thursday morning. The air is cold and pene- 



262 



Glimpses Around the World 



trating as we leave the city by carriage. Not being 
able to return to Jerusalem this evening, we prepare 
ourselves with necessities for a two-days' excursion. 
Our carriage road skirts the north wall of the city, and 
leads us through the Valley of Jehoshaphat, whose 
slopes are covered with Jewish graves. Just beyond 
the Garden of Gethsemane, where the crippled lepers 




Shepherd and His Flock. 



greet us with their cries, we meet our mounted Bedouin 
escort. As of old, travelers are apt "to fall among 
thieves, ' ' and the Turkish Government compels all 
touring parties along this road to be accompanied by a 
mounted and armed guard. 

The bronze-skinned Bedouin looks picturesque in 
his flowing black and yellow striped robe, and his 



The Land of Kings and Prophets 263 

wound head-dress, which serves as a protection against 
the sun. The huge sword fastened to his girdle adds 
dignity to the costume, and we trust that is all the 
dangerous-looking weapon will be required to do. 
The shiny black steed is decorated with a necklace of 
light blue beads. Sometimes our body-guard rides 
some half a mile ahead, and clears the road of the droves 




Open Bedouin Camp. 

of slow-moving camels, whose heavily-laden packs 
are the most adequate means for the transportation 
of produce. We drive down the eastern side of the 
Judean Hills and through the stony wilderness of 
Judea. Here is a shepherd, and his flock of sheep. 

Our horses must rest and we halt before this open 
Bedouin camp. How queer these members of the 
roving tribe look. 



264 Glimpses Around the World 

We are told they are the only class of people who 
are able to live in this region during the summer. 
Beards assist us in determining their sex, though their 
loin-cloths look like skirts. These men have oranges 
to sell, and as the atmosphere has already become warm 
and dusty we will refresh ourselves by the investment 
of a few metallics. One Turkish metallic is about 
equal to one cent in American money. 

Our next halt is at the Inn of the Good Samaritan, 
which recalls to our minds the Scriptural parable re- 
corded in Luke x: 33-35: of a certain Samaritan and 
the traveler who went down to Jericho and fell among 
thieves. The road is difficult to travel, and while our 
horses rest let us alight from our conveyance and visit 
the interior of this hospice. The site of this Inn is 
very old and has probably borne for hundreds of years 
the name " of Him who showed mercy to a feudal foe. ' ' 
The large shed with the courtyard at the rear is peopled 
with traveling pilgrims who are refreshing themselves 
with coffee ere they continue their expedition to the 
Holy City. Leaving the Inn of the Good Samaritan, 
the landscape becomes more barren. 

From the top of a precipitous height, we look across 
the Brook Cherith, which Marion Harland says, "is 
one of the most sublime ravines in Palestine. ' ' Half 
way up the opposite towering cliff nestles a curious 
Greek monastery, dedicated to St. George, which we 
are told marks the site of the cave in which the prophet 
Elijah was fed by the ravens. The remainder of the 
drive to Jericho is a succession of descents, at times 
so steep and uneven that we prefer walking rather 
than endure the jolts. 

However we have made good time and as it is not 
yet noon when we reach the modern village of Jericho, 
we drive to the outskirts of the town. A ruined 
aqueduct and a few mounds are all that remain of 



The Land of Kings and Prophets 265 

that which was at one time considered the garden of 
Palestine. We visit the pool which formerly furnished 
Jericho with water, water which Elisha is said to have 
made sweet from bitter. 

The Belle View Hotel furnishes us comfortable 
accommodations. After our noon meal, though the 
heat is intense, we resume our carriage seats and drive 




The Dead Sea. 



to the Dead Sea. The nullahs, or cross streams 
along the road make the drive of some three-quarters 
of an hour seem hazardous. Here we are before the 
lowest body of water on the earth's surface; a depres- 
sion of nearly thirteen hundred feet below the level 
of the sea. The water is said to contain about twenty- 
six per cent of solid substances; one-fourth of which 



266 Glimpses Around the World 

is common solid salt. This is said to be five times 
as much chloride of sodium as is found in the ocean. 
The Arabs call this the Sea of Lot, and perhaps this is 
the place where the Divine messengers led Lot, his 
wife, and two unmarried daughters, when Madame Lot 
looked back and was changed into a pillar of salt. A 
tree trunk which has been washed ashore serves us as a 
bench. In meditation we look out over the somber 
scene; the great smooth sheet of water where no fish 
nor vegetation can live, and beyond, the misty moun- 
tain heights of Moab. Our dragoman says, Lot in 
Hebrew signifies " a veil. " This title seems apropos, 
for a veil-like shroud of mist seems always to hover 
over this scene of desolation. In school, we remember 
learning that the Dead Sea is forty-seven miles in 
length and its greatest width about nine and one-half 
miles. Its principal tributary is the Jordan River, 
and it has no outlet. Let us dip our fingers into the 
water's edge. When we extricate them they are well- 
coated with a white substance which tastes saltish. 

A three-miles' drive over an expanse of country 
sprinkled with the plant of the crown of thorns known 
as Spina Christi, leads us to the bank of the River 
Jordan, the stream which causes the annual pilgrimage 
of thousands of Russian, Greek, and Latin devotees, 
just as the River Ganges is the center of Hindu 
worship. 

Like an arrow from a quiver, to the sad and lone Dead Sea 
Thou art rushing; rapid river, swift and strong and silently. 

Our first glimpse is a disappointment. Lovely 
foliage embowers the river's banks, but the stream 
seems insignificant in size. We think of the school 
boy who when asked on his examination paper to 
describe the course of the river Jordan wrote "The 
Jordan is a river which runs straight down the middle 



The Land of Kings and Prophets 267 

of the map of Palestine, but if you look at it closely, 
it wriggles about. " Such is actually the case, and the 
view we obtain is but one of these "wriggles. " 

Jordan means " down corner, " and Dr. G. A. Smith's 
description is that of a "rapid, muddy water with a 
zigzag current. " Nearly the entire length of the bed 
of the Jordan is below the level of the sea; this no 




Our First Glimpse of the River Jordan. 

doubt accounts for the supply of muddy sediment. 
The serenity of the scene grows upon us as we linger. 
Though we have been told, that ships on which Jordan 
water is carried are always unlucky, we defy supersti- 
tion, and while out rowing remember friends at home. 
When the shadows heighten and we must take our 
leave, we carry with us a bottle of the baptismal fluid. 



2 68 



Glimpses Around the World 



En route to our Jericho headquarters, our dragoman 
points to the site of Gilgal, where Joshua and the Israel- 
ites encamped after their passage across the Jordan. 
The villagers of modern Jericho have established an 
undesirable reputation among tourists, but we suffer 
no molestation. 

Before dawn we are awakened. One glorious bright 




One of the "Wriggles" of the Jordan River. 



star is still visible in the firmament. By the time the 
sun rises we are traveling on and up, retracing our 
way to Jerusalem. Mitri calls our attention to the 
Mount which, according to tradition, was the scene of 
Christ's forty-days' Fasting and Temptation in the 
Wilderness, and now the retreat of many hermits. 
We again pause at the Inn of the Good Samaritan to 



The Land of Kings and Prophets 269 

find it the resting place of several fatigued and footsore 
Russian pilgrims. The aged travelers are equipped 
with donkeys, but the young and sturdy go afoot. 

At Bethany, now the home of some of the dirtiest 
beggars in the land, we leave our carriage and follow 
our guide through crooked alleys to the Tomb of 
Lazarus, now a Moslem shrine. We recall how Laza- 
rus lived in Bethany with his two sisters, Mary and 
Martha, in the cosy vine-clad cottage where Christ 
often abode. A ruined wall now marks the site. Was 
it not here that Martha met Jesus when He came, at 
the death of Lazarus? "They led Him to the cave, to 
the rocky bed where now in darkness slept their 
brother, and His friend — then at the grave they paused 
for Jesus wept, and there He cried, Come forth! and 
Lazarus lived again." An opening in a pile of stones 
serves as an entrance to the tomb, which, with lighted 
tapers, we penetrate. The air is stifling, and as there 
is little to be seen we return to our carriage and re- 
enter Jerusalem. 

Once more within the precincts of Jerusalem, let 
us walk through the Jewish Quarter. We find the 
stamp of these inhabitants quite unlike the type known 
to us as Hebraic. All are of pale complexion, while 
the hair of the men, often red in color, is arranged 
in two tiny curls which hang down on either side of the 
forehead, in front of the ears. Many of the Jews are 
of the same type to which tradition has assigned Jesus 
Christ ; with fair skin and light hair. Each and all are 
distinctly unlike the type of Jews recognized in Europe, 
who, with Assyrian features, have "hooky nose and 
beard half shorn, and eyes as black as the fruit of a 
thorn." 

It is Friday, the best day in the week to visit the 
Place of the Wailing of the Jews. We proceed through 
narrow lanes and stand before a portion of the wall of 



270 Glimpses Around the World 

the ancient Temple. We are told that by the pay- 
ment of a heavy ransom the Jews obtained the privilege 
of touching and kissing the sacred stones. Men and 
women gather here to weep and pray: 




The Place of Wailing of the Jews. 

For the palace that lies waste; 

For the temple that is destroyed; 

For the walls that are torn down ; 

For our glory that is vanished; 

For the great stones that are burned to dust ; 

Here sit we now lonely and weep. 

Our guide translates this litany which is being 
chanted by an old Rabbi who is rocking to and fro, 
pressing his forehead against the inscribed and beveled 
stones. The sight of these devout worshipers appeals 
to our sympathy, rather than excites ridicule, as had 
been anticipated. Though cleanly in appearance, most 
of the devotees appear bereft of worldly goods. 



The Land of Kings and Prophets 271 

The time has come for us to take our farewell of 
"The City of Peace." 

" If I forget thee 0, Jerusalem, let my right hand 
forget her cunning. ' ' 

A group of vagabonds gather about our carriage as 
we leave the hospice. One poor old man limping 
along on a pair of crutches, becomes so agitated at the 
thought of possessing a few T extra met allies, that while 
attempting to follow our conveyance, he actually for- 
gets on which lower extremity to limp, and by mistake 
alternates his hobble. 

The trip back to Joppa is of increased interest. 
After twenty-four hours' delay at " Mr. Hardegg's 
Jerusalem Hotel," the sea calms and our night's tour 
back to Port Said is agreeably uneventful. 

The steamship Osiris, one of the swift boats which 
carry mail from Port Said to Brindisi, furnishes us 
with accommodations, and we bid adieu to the palmy 
African shores. During the forty-eight-hours' trip 
across the Mediterranean, we find our steamer tearing 
through a stormy sea beneath a wet and sunless sky. 



ifl^^^iW TW 



T 



CHAPTER XI 

The Garden of Europe 

HE fringed curtains of thine eye advance, and 
say what thou see'st 'y° n cl Lo! the European 
Continent. 

And now fair Italy, 

Thou art the guardian of the world, the home 

Of all art yields, and Nature can decree, 

Even in thy desert, what is like to thee? 

Thy very weeds are beautiful, thy waste 

More rich than other climes' fertility; 

Thy wreck a glory, and thy ruin graced 

With an immaculate charm which cannot be defaced. 

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. — Byron. 

We are landing upon the heel of the Italian boot. 
The customs officers cause us but slight delay. As 
there are no sleeping-car accommodations en route 
to Naples we must spend the night in Brindisi. 

It is late afternoon. Let us take a walk through 
some of the quaint cobble-stone streets of this old 
town. Arabic characters are supplanted by Italiano 
and the pervading atmosphere of vino (wine). The 
people about the streets do not seem to understand 
our language, and from the manner in which the inhabi- 
tants stare at us, we judge they have seen few American 
tourists. 

The early morning train carries us across the southern 
Italian territory, which is devoted to the cultivation 
of vineyards. During the late afternoon we reach 
fair Napoli, the vast city which is perched upon the 
steep side-hill on the inner curve of the horseshoe of 

(272) 



The Garden of Europe 273 

the lovely bay of Naples. We can already distinguish 
Vesuvius, whose curling columns of smoke look Lke a 
long white plume against the azure sky. 

We have been told that cab fare is the cheapest lux- 
ury we shall find in Naples. We engage a carrozella, 
a one-horse victoria which accommodates three persons 
and a large quantity of hand-baggage, for one lira, 




Mount Vesuvius from a Neapolitan Height. 

about twenty cents in American money, and are 
transported across the city to a comfortable hotel 
overlooking the loveliest inlet of the Mediterranean. 
We are surprised to find the city of Parthenope so 
large and well built. The ancient and dirty congested 
districts are rapidly disappearing, and in their stead 
handsome modern structures are being erected which 
18 



274 Glimpses Around the World 

will no doubt fulfil the prophecy that Naples will soon 
be the most beautiful and healthful city in Europe. 

As we mingle with the gay, loud-voiced people who 
throng the thoroughfares we find the Neapolitans are 
buono gente (good people). Careless and free, they 
seem to feast upon smiling Nature with its beauty of 
bluest sky and sea. 




Entrance to the Villa Municipale. 

We are agreeably surprised in the appearance of the 
women of the lower class whom we had imagined ugly. 
They possess animated features, piercing dark eyes, and 
an abundance of very black hair of which they are 
justly proud, as they pile it high upon their heads in 
becoming puffs. Their clothing in most instances is 
cleanly, but the tiny dingy shops look unsanitary, 



The Garden of Europe 275 

reminding us that "where the sun does not enter the 
doctor does. ' ' On the roofs of many of the houses 
we see long strings of macaroni which have been spread 
on wooden frames to dry in the sun. 

It is April and the atmosphere is soft and balmy. 
We enjoy a promenade in the Villa Municipale (public 
gardens). The official gendarmeria (policemen) who 
are always seen strutting through the streets in pairs, 
are especially decorated, to-day being Sunday, with 
huge flaming pompons in their tricorn hats. 

The gardens are well laid out and contain many 
copies of the masterpieces of sculpture. The effect 
of the white marble against the lovely green foliage 
tells us that here sylvan Nature and art have become 
friends. 

Naples, the pet of Italy, has during all ages been 
the favorite residence of the aristocrats. Let us take 
a tram, the electric transportation is good, and visit 
the National Museum of Antiquities and Fine Arts. 
Passing through the Piazza Dante, we reach the red 
edifice, one of the largest treasure-houses of things 
artistic and archaeological in the world. At the en- 
trance is a marble statue of a lion which seems to guard 
this vast and valuable collection. The masterpieces 
of the " Farnese Bull" and "Hercules," which were 
found in the Caracalla Baths at. Rome we especially 
admire. There are wonderfully preserved frescos of 
the most exquisite design and color wriich have been 
brought here from Pompeii, and household con- 
trivances of use and beauty which show the ad- 
vanced ideas of the early Pompeiians. Let us look 
into the glass case which contains the " Farnesian 
Cup," cut from Oriental sardonyx. It is probably 
the largest and finest cameo known. We find it won- 
derfully sculptured on the outer surface with a mag- 
nificent head of Medusa, while the interior of the bowl- 



276 Glimpses Around the World 

like cup is a relief of a harvest feast in which eight 
figures have been carved. We are told that the cup 
was found in Hadrian's Tomb at Rome. Here is a 
marble statue of "Ganymede embracing Jupiter" 




Rape of the Sabine. 



under the form of an eagle, and near by is the lovely 
"Thetis," the mother of Achilles, sitting on a sea 
monster. To view this masterpiece of Grecian sculp- 
ture is next best to seeing the friendly Nereids sport 



The Garden of Europe 



277 



upon the surface of the rippling bay, as mythology tells 
us they were wont to do. 

We shall now take a tram and visit the ancient town 
of Pozzuoli. Little of the early Grecian commercial 
settlement is visible, and we go direct to Solfatara, 
which is the crater of an active volcano. One lira each 
person admits us to walk upon this station of the 




Solfatara. 



Underworld. We throw a heavy stone upon the 
ground and the warm earth below our very feet sounds 
hollow. There are crevices in the ground as well as 
on the side of the whitish hills, from which smoke and 
alkaline matter is constantly ejected, and there are 
places where the sand is so hot we can see its grains 
boiling on the surface of the earth. Though history 



278 Glimpses Around the World 

records only one great eruption of this volcano in 1198, 
we are fearful of another attack at any time, and 
are happy to make our escape before the critical 
moment. 

Before returning to Naples let us visit the amphi- 
theater which is the best preserved monument of 
ancient Pozzuoli. Looking into the now ruined arena, 
we recall the legend of St. Januarius and the other 
martyrs who, while imprisoned here during the fourth 
century, were thrown to the mercy of hungry wild 
beasts yet came out of the ordeal uninjured. 

The shadows have lengthened when we again reach 
our hotel. We look out across the darkened bay and 
see Vesuvius bursting forth fire, steam, and lava. The 
scene suggests Bulwer Lytton's word-painting: 

"In proportion as the blackness gathered, did the 
lightnings around Vesuvius increase in their vivid and 
scorching glare. Nor was their horrible beauty con- 
fined to the usual hues of fire ; no rainbow ever rivaled 
their varying prodigal dyes. Now brightly hued as 
the most azure depth of a southern sky — now of a 
livid and snake-like green, darting restlessly to and fro 
as the folds of an enormous serpent — now of a lurid 
and intolerable crimson gushing forth through the 
columns of smoke, far and wide, lighting up the whole 
city from arch to arch — then suddenly dying into a 
sickly paleness, like the ghost of their own life." 

Remembering the last great eruption in April 7-8, 
1906, we are satisfied to view the destructive volcano 
from afar. 

The lottery booths, which are a state institution 
in Italy, reap a rich harvest from both rich and poor 
Neapolitans. We find the shops of tortoise-shell, 
coral, lava, and cameos which are situated along the 
water's front the best in which to bargain; for we are 
yet within the Oriental bargaining precinct. In 



The Garden of Europe 279 

nearly every shop window we read, "English spoken." 
"On parte Frangais tci." "Man spricht Deutsch." 

When we enter the shop, in most cases the shop- 
keeper pantomimes for us to wait while he runs to his 
neighbor to procure the interpreter, who serves the 
whole block of shopkeepers by speaking a broken 
English. Of course this condition does not exist in 
the better shops, nor in the lovely new " Galleria Vit- 
toria" which is the very center for foreigners. We 
find kid gloves cost about half the price we pay at 
home, but upon purchasing, discover that their quality 
and workmanship are also inferior. 

During the evenings spent at the hotel we are enter- 
tained by a troupe of quaintly-costumed Tarantella 
dancers as well as musicians and songsters sometimes 
of real genius. 

The morning is rainy and we drive across the city 
to one of the most celebrated Carthusian convents 
in Italy, the Convent of San Martino at the foot of the 
Castle of St. Elmo, which was founded in the early 
part of the fourteenth century. Though nothing 
remains of the original edifice, the present seventeenth 
century structure is elaborately embellished with rare 
works of art. The high altar of the adjoining church, 
with its balustrade of the most costly marbles, is said to 
be unrivaled for its beauty of design and perfection 
of execution. With the exception of the pietra dura 
work in India we think we have seen nothing more 
exquisite than this sculpture. The chapels are all 
rich in statuary, mosaics, and paintings, and we learn 
that the whole collection is under the same supervision 
as the National Museum. 

When we leave the Certosa we find the clouds 
have passed and the sun is shining. We shall jusi 
have time to catch the steam train for Pompeii, and 
gain at least a glimpse of the buried city which lies at 



2 SO 



Glimpses Around the World 



the southern base of Mount Vesuvius. Only about a 
half hour is consumed in transportation. We no 
sooner alight from the train than we are besieged by 
guides, hawkers and beggars. We pass them unnoticed, 
and after paying two and a half lire, about fifty cents, 
for an entrance fee, we are allowed to wander, accom- 
panied by a uniformed guide, through the narrow 
streets of this dead city where silence reigns supreme. 
We think of the dark Etruscan prophecy in the dream 
of Arbaces, " When the mountain opens, the city 
shall fall — when the smoke crowns the Hill of the 
Parched Fields, there shall be woe and weeping in the 
hearths of the Children of the Sea. The walls of 
Pompeii are built upon the field of the dead and the 
rivers of the sleepless hell. ' ' We can see the ruts 
which have been left by the wheels of carriages that 
moved here more than eighteen hundred years ago. 
Records tell us that August 23, 24, 25, A. D. 79 were 
the awful days when Vesuvius burst forth in angry ex- 
plosion, burying with lava, pumice stone, and water 
the three cities which nestled at her base. So com- 
pletely were the cities covered that during the middle 
ages the place was quite forgotten. The excavations 
which were begun under the direction of Charles III 
in 1748, have been continued to the present day at the 
expense of the Italian Government. 

The excavated remains of the public buildings sug- 
gest Greek architecture. From the residences we are 
led to believe these ancients lived an out-of-door life. 
The general plan of the houses consists of two inner 
courts surrounded by a colonnade. The first court 
was called the atrium, in the center of which there was 
a tank for rain-water ; this court served as a reception 
hall for visitors, while the inner court, known as peri- 
style, had a garden in the center and was used in private 
domestic life. Domus Vettiorium, the residence of one 



The Garden of Europe 281 

of the rich Pompeiian citizens, is probably the best- 
preserved building in the city. We make our way to 
this peristyle just off which we find the dining room 
or triclinium where guests reclined on couches during 
their meal. Here is the room which contains the ad- 
mirable frescos, still brilliant in color, representing 
mythological animals, fish, satyrs, and cupids. What 
artists these Pompeiians were! On the mosaic vesti- 
bule floors of several of the buildings we read Salve! 
(Welcome !) 

The silence there was what most haunted me; 

Long speechless streets, whose stepping-stores invite 

Feet which shall never come. To left ai d right. 

Gay colonnades and courts; beyond, the glee, 

Heartless, of that forgetful Pagan Sea ; 

On roofless homes and wailing streets the light 

Lies with a pathos sorrowfuller than night. 

Again in Naples, we ramble through the Santa Lucia 
district to enjoy typical southern Italian scenes. Here 
comes a whistling fish vender; upon his head he 
balances a set of flat straw trays, each of which is 
smaller than the one beneath it. When he sets his 
burden down we notice that each tray contains one 
particular kind of fish. 

Though we have seen but a few of the beauties of 
Naples we are regretful to take our leave. With the 
Neapolitans who leave their native shore we sing 
"L'Addio a Napoli" : 

' What heart can gaze but once on thee 
Nor glow in wild delight? 
In thee the earth and skies above 
All seem to breathe and glow with love. 
In thee I leave my heart. 
And now we two must part 
Ah! sweet Bay of Naples, fare thee well. 

Though we have been told that second-class 
railway carriages are generally occupied by the 
tourists, we find first - class accommodations from 
Naples to Rome none too comfortable. We share 



282 



Glimpses Around the World 



our compartment with fellow-countrymen, or rather 
husband and wife, who have but recently landed 
from their first oceanic and Mediterranean tour, and 
contemplate a few weeks sojourn on the continent, 

It has seemingly 
been their long-cher- 
ished hope to visit 
Europe, and now that 
good fortune has smiled 
upon them, they are 
determined to see 
everything. We find 
they have monopolized 
both windows in the 
compartment and are 
seated with their treas- 
ured redbound Baed- 
eker open before them. 
At the close of the first 
half-hour's ride, they 
seem to have exhausted 
the supply of superla- 
tives belonging to their 
vocabulary, if not that 
o f W ebster's Una- 
bridged, while they 
crane their necks to 
view a mountain peak 
or distant valley. Tis 
true the scenery is 
picturesque, but we 
wonder from what part of the United States these 
Americans have come, that the loveliness of natural 
beauty is to them a new story. Upon later inquiry 
we learn that our fellow-travelers live upon the bank 
of the Hudson River. Bavard Tavlor savs: 




Santa Lucia. 



The Garden of Europe 283 

"Art is Italy's main support now, the people are 
dependent for their subsistence on the glory of the 
past. The spirit of the old painters living still on 
their canvas, earns from year to year the bread of an 
oppressed people. This ought to silence those utili- 
tarians at home who oppose the cultivation of the 
Fine Arts, on the ground of their being useless luxuries. 
Let these people then look to Italy, where a picture 
by Raphael or Correggio is a rich legacy to a whole 
city. Nothing is useless that gratifies that perception 
of beauty, which is at once the most delicate and the 
most intense of our mental sensations, binding us 
by an unconscious link nearer to Nature and to 
Him whose every thought is born of Beauty, Truth, 
and Love. I envy not the one who looks with a cold 
and indifferent spirit on these immortal creations of 
the old masters, — these poems written in marble 
and on the canvas. They who oppose everything 
which can refine and spiritualize the nature of man, 
by binding him down to the cares of the work-day 
world alone, cheat life of half its glory. ' ' 

Our train halts at the Stazione Termini. We are 
now in Roma, the capital and center of the greatest 
state of the ancient world, the center of the Roman 
Catholic Church, and the capital of the present king- 
dom of Italy. 

Let us engage a cab and drive across the city to find 
pleasant and sunny hotel accommodations near the 
Pincio, or hill of gardens. If time permitted us to 
remain in the Eternal City we should try to make 
pension arrangements. 

It is already sunset. We can hear music by the 
military band, and make our way to the pleasure 
grounds to see the Italian aristocracy drive through 
this Hyde Park of Rome. From the projecting terrace 
above the Piazza del Popolo we obtain our first general 



284 Glimpses Around the World 

view of Rome. Here flows trie murky Tiber, beyond 
rise St. Peter's and the Vatican, more majestic than 
we had dared anticipate. Just to the left is the rounded 
Castello Sant Angelo, whose bronze statue of the 
archangel St. Michael sheathing his sword is a likeness 
of the apparition Gregory the Great is said to have 
beheld while offering a prayer for the cessation of the 
plague. Farther to the left rises the equestrian bronze 
statue of Italy's exiled patriot, Garibaldi. We recog- 
nize a flat dome in the distance as belonging to the 
Pantheon, the best-preserved ancient edifice in the city. 

What is the name of the building near the column of 
Marcus Aurelius on the Capitol Hill? A group of 
well-dressed English-speaking natives standing near 
tell us, " That is the ancient church of Santa Maria in 
Aracoeli, or church of the Altar cf Heaven. It is there 
at Christmas time one can view the famous sacred 
Bambino (baby) which was carved from olive wood 
by a Franciscan monk in Jerusalem and brought to 
Roma. ' ' Then our new acquaintances, in all sincerity 
tell us how, according to tradition, 

"The steamer on which the mcnk and the Bambino 
took passage encountered a severe storm, which 
caused the captain to order the cargo thrown over- 
board. The box containing this image, however, 
did not sink, but floated on the surface of the water 
close to the vessel. When the port of Leghorn was 
reached, several of the crew tried to recover the 
floating box, but none except the monk could pacify 
the Bambino, which was later entrusted to the care 
of the Roman Brothers of the Ara Coeli. Here the 
life-like image accomplished many miracles. It was 
carried to the homes of the sick and immediately 
established health. Once a woman, feigning illness, 
came into possession cf the sacred image. She had 
previously prepared an imitation, and transferring 



The Garden of Europe 285 

the jewel-bedecked clothing sent the false image back 
while she kept the sacred Bambino. No one dis- 
covered the fraud, but at midnight the bells of the 
basilica rang furiously without having been put in 
motion, thus warning the monks of an extraordinary 
event. Great knocks were heard at the principal 
door, and when the friars opened it, they found them- 
selves in the presence of the naked image shivering 
from the cold. The real Bambino was reinstated with 
pomp, and ever since reposes among its precious 
gifts in a golden house. It is honored by the whole 
Catholic world, and was solemnly crowned by the 
Vatican Chapter on the second of May, 1897. " 

We appreciate the efforts of our newly-acquired Ital- 
ian acquaintances, and determine to view some day 
this remarkable piece of olive wood which shivers in 
the cold. 

It is already dusk, and we return to our Roman 
home to prepare the briefest of itineraries for merely a 
glimpse of a few of the most interesting sights of Roma, 
" the high school which is open to all the world. ' ' The 
word Rome means strength or stronghold, an apropos 
title, for we realize that it will require much strength on 
our part to tear ourselves away from the fetters of 
of this enchanting stronghold. 

There is a large English and American colony here, 
and we would choose a visit of several months. St. 
Peter's Cathedral and the Vatican are the most urgent 
voices to bid us come. We descend the Scala di Spagna 
which serves as a flower market. Here the youthful 
artists' models in their picturesque costumes are 
grouped. From these steps we see the tablet which 
marks the house where John Keats died, he whose 
epitaph in the Roman-European cemetery reads, "Here 
lies one whose name was writ in water. " 

Here we are in the Piazza di Spagna. We hail a 



286 



Glimpses Around the World 



cab and tell the driver, Basilica San Pietro in Vati- 
cano and when we show one silver lira he says si, 
meaning "yes." Away we drive across the rusty 
Tiber. In about a half an hour, when we halt in the 
Piazza di San Pietro, we give our coachman a twenty- 
five centesimi, or five-cent, tip. We are standing in 
the imposing Piazza which is enclosed by huge colon- 




Artists' Models on Scala di Spagna. 



nades containing four series of Doric columns. Foun- 
tains on either side are sending up their showers of 
silvery spray. In the center a mighty obelisk of 
Egyptian granite is piercing the sky, and beyond rises 
the great front and dome of the cathedral. Surely 
this is a fitting approach to the largest church in 
Christendom. Our minds revert to ancient Rome, 
and, mighty as her edifices must have been, we doubt 



The Garden of Europe 287 

if there were any more imposing views than this 
one. 

The facade of St. Peter's seems close to us, although 
it is actually nearly four blocks distant, and the people 
ascending the steps dwindle into pigmies. We make 
our way to the portico and pushing aside the heavy 
leather curtain, stand within the great nave. " What 
feelings overpower the poetic mind when the glories 
of that interior first blaze upon the brain; what a 
world of brightness, softness, and richness; what 
grandeur, solidity, and strength; what unnumbered 
treasures around the altar ; what grand mosaics re ■ 
lieve the height of the wondrous dome. ' ' 

Baedeker says, "While the exterior of St. Peter's 
is open to criticism, the interior, notwithstanding its 
meretricious enrichments, is strikingly impressive ; and 
the effect is produced not so much by the vastness, 
as by the harmony and symmetry of its proportions. ' ' 
A round slab of porphyry in the pavement close to the 
central door marks the spot on which the emperors, 
including Napoleon, were crowned by the Pope. Here 
is the Jubilee Door, which was sealed up by His Holi- 
ness the late Pope Leo XIII at the close of Holy Year, 
1900. We gaze up into the grand cupola which rises 
sixty feet higher than Bunker Hill Monument. Beneath 
the dome is the splendid bronze canopy, or High Altar, 
from which the Pope alone reads mass on high festivals, 
while below is the Tomb of St. Peter, around which 
ninety-five lamps are always burning. 

There are no seating accommodations through the 
nave or transept. Groups of people are kneeling before 
many of the side chapels, which are filled with costly 
statues, and pictures so wonderfully executed in mosaic 
that we imagine they are done in oil. There are choris- 
ters and priests marching while they chant, yet over 
all reigns a majestic silence. It seems as if human art 



288 Glimpses Around the World 

had outdone itself in producing this edifice. There is 
the bronze statue of St. Peter. The apostle is rep- 
resented sitting. He holds his hand as in the Papal 
blessing, and his right foot, which is slightly in advance, 
is worn smooth and shapeless. Let us pause nearby 
and watch the devotees. A Roman housewife with 
her market basket bows, makes the sign of the cross 
and kisses St. Peter's foot. Behind trudges a little 
girl and her dirty baby brother. The girl, exercising 
all her strength, succeeds in lifting her tiny companion 
to press his wet lips on the toes of the bronze image. 
A few moments later, a richly-gowned lady profusely 
adorned with jewelry gracefully bows and devoutly 
offers her prayer and lip salute to this lower extremity 
of the great patron saint. Time is fleeting, we must 
away. Yes! St. Peter's Cathedral is a monument 
for many generations. A description of its beauties 
would fill a volume. It impresses us rather as a wonder 
of Nature than a work of man, though we are not for- 
getful of the thanks, praise and honor due the im- 
mortal Michelangelo, and with Emerson we say: 

The hard that rounded Peter's dome, 

And groi n ed the aisles of Christian Rome, 

Wrought with a sad sincerity. 

Himself from God he could not free, 

He builded better than he knew, 

The conscious stone to beauty grew. 

Being Tuesday we make our way to the adjoining 
Vatican, the largest palace in the world, the home and 
executive office of the supreme pontiff of the Catholic 
church. We pass the armed Swiss guards who look 
picturesque in their gay uniforms, and ascend the Scala 
Regia to enter what is known as Raphael's Stanze, a 
series of rooms devoted to mural paintings by Raphael 
Sanzio. These frescos, which were executed in 1508- 
1520 by order of Pope Julius II, rank among the 
foremost creations by the youthful master, and are 



The Garden of Europe 291 

regarded by many as the best example of modern art 
in existence. 

Here is the Incendio Del Borgo, or Conflagration in 
the Borgo. We see Pope Leo IV extinguishing a fire 
which had occurred in the Vatican by making the sign 
of the cross. Surely such a miracle nrnst have been a 
most difficult task to paint, but in it the genius Ra- 
phael scored a triumph. " I, as JEneas our great ances- 
tor did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulders 
old Anchises bear. ' ' Among the characters in the fore- 
ground who are trying to save themselves and their 
goods, we discover ^Eneas carrying the aged Anchises 
on his back; Creusa and Ascanius, his wife and child, 
accompanying them. 

We interpret the artist's object in introducing this 
group as being a reminder of the heroic age, and as giv- 
ing an example of filial devotion at a moment of peril. 
Notice the facade which pictures St. Peter's Cathedral 
as it looked when Raphael conceived this fresco. Some 
modern critics tell us: 

"The Incendio Del Borgo is melodramatic, rather 
than dramatic. Here is the beginning of the attitudi- 
nizing, the rolling of eyes, the grimace of widely- 
opened mouths, of over-emphatic gesture, and all the 
delineations of a fine frenzy. Nevertheless under 
and behind the exaggeration and the coldness is still 
the superb power of the Renaissance ; we are yet close 
to the life-giving force of Raphael." 

Let us pass into the adjoining Stanze dellaSegnatura, 
so named because the papal indulgences were signed 
and sealed here. Originally the room served as a private 
library to Pope Julius II. This fact explains Ra- 
phael's choice of subjects, which are symbolic of the 
four principal spheres of intellectual life. We glance 
first at the ceiling which is adorned with medallions 
representing Theology, Poetry, Philosophy and Justice. 



292 Glimpses Around the World 

Now we turn to the wall from which we have entered. 
This fresco known as Disputa del Sacramento or as has 
been translated the Glorification of the Christian Faith, 
is the first serious essay in monumental decorations, a 
subject in which the mystical relation of Christian man 
to his Redeemer through the communion is discussed 
in the presence of the Trinity, the Patriarchs and 
Apostles. In the foreground the congregation, full 
of religious enthusiasm, are grouped around the altar. 
Among the group to the right we recognize the laurel- 
crowned profile of Dante, and promptly conjecture the 
names of several of the other figures. We are, however, 
told that the figures and grouping are but symbolical. 
In the upper group we discover Christ and other heroes 
of the faith. To the left of Jesus is the Madonna, then 
a half -concealed old prophet, the next we are told is 
St. Lawrence, David, St. John the Evangelist, Adam, 
and at this end of the angel-coated cloud, St. Peter. 
At Christ's right hand sits John the Baptist, then an 
armed Old Testament hero, St. Stephen, Moses, St. 
James, Abraham, and St. Paul. Above all is the half 
figure of God the Father. The emblem of the Holy 
Spirit and the angels holding the gospel books serve as 
a connecting link between the materialized and the 
spiritualistic grouping. We note the upper line curves 
gently upwards at the end, while the curve of the 
earthly figures bends slightly down. The long white 
marble steps repeat the straight base line of the pic- 
ture and serve as a pedestal to the whole. We are 
told that as a decorative pattern this fresco remains 
the finest work in the Vatican. 

On the opposite wall of this room is the companion 
subject to the Disputa, known as Scuola d 1 Atene, or 
School of Athens, perhaps the most famous single 
achievement of the artist. Here we are introduced to 
an assembly of scholars. We see a flight of steps lead- 



The Garden of Europe 295 

ing to an open colonnade crowned with a dome at the 
back. 

This Hall of Fame is surely the most splendid temple 
of knowledge which was ever created. In the center 
of the group we recognize Plato and Aristotle, the 
princes in the realm of thought, " they whom the Ren- 
aissance especially revered, ' ' then in contrast to the 
pure philosophers we find the representatives of Geome- 
try, Arithmetic, Astronomy and Music. These are 
the two main groupings of the picture. " Raphael 
imparted the warmth of life and individuality by 
interweaving into the scene a number of ancient Greek 
personages. ' ' By no means did the artist intend to 
give a complete picture of the development of Greek 
philosophy, but merely introduced various popular 
characters of antiquity with a view to direct our 
imaginative thought into the proper channel ; to assist 
in localizing a scene which would otherwise have been 
too general and abstract. To the left is the bald- 
headed Socrates. Diogenes is lying upon the steps. 
We judge that the vine-wreathed figure in the left 
group is Epicurus, while near him sits Pythagoras writ- 
ing. As we scan the group to the right we spy Raphael 
himself. The scene fascinates us, but we shall now 
turn to the no less admirable achievement on the wall 
above the window, the Monte Parnaso. Critics tell 
us there are two reasons which have caused the " Par- 
nassus" to fall behind the other frescos; first, the 
introducing of many portraits of poets, some of them 
contemporaries of the artist, and the tendency of the 
sitter to turn his face towards the spectator. Secondly, 
the " Parnassus" seems to have been painted last of all 
the frescos in the room, and it was likely enough that 
some emergency occurred calling for the carrying 
away of the scaffolds and the hurried completion of the 
work. " When all reserves are made, however, the 



296 Glimpses Around the World 

"Parnassus" contains noble figures and shows plainly 
that it was produced during Raphael's best period." 
As we gaze let us try to appreciate the exalted senti- 
ment which pervades the picture. Apollo is sitting 
under the laurels playing the violin. One of our party 
asks why the violin instead of the lyre ? and an artistic 
critic tells us that Raphael no doubt thought the mo- 
tion of the hand while playing the violin was more 
graceful. The Muses are gathered around Apollo and 
beyond to the left we recognize the inspired blind 
Homer, near him is Virgil, and the profile we always 
recognize to be that of Dante. Likenesses of Petrarch, 
Sappho, Pindar and Horace are grouped in the fore- 
ground. 

Though this Camera delta Segnatura has suffered 
from all the accidents common to fresco painting, such 
as cracks and dust, yet it has retained a warm and 
pleasing tone typical of the great harvester who came 
and bound up the sheaves of the Renaissance. In this 
Sala delta Segnatura, Raphael succeeded in symbolizing 
to the satisfaction of Pope, poets and learned men the 
greatest divisions of human thought. 

There are many other splendid works in this collec- 
tion which lack of time prevents us from enjoying. We 
merely peep at that which is called " the jewel of the 
Vatican;" Raphael's Transfiguration, and glance at 
the well-known Sistine Chapel which was created by 
the most overwhelming personality of all artists. We 
know that the subjects portrayed in the Sistine Chapel 
were taken from the Book of Genesis. From the accu- 
mulation of three hundred years of dust and smoke 
these wonderful anatomical perfections of prophets and 
sibyls have become indistinct. We are deeply im- 
pressed with the creative power of these frescos but 
we agree with Bayard Taylor when he wrote, " to de- 
scribe galleries, however rich and renowned they may 




Ph 



The Garden of Europe 301 

be, is in general a work of so much difficulty that I 
know not whether the writer or the reader is made the 
more tired thereby. ' ' 

We descend the marble stairway and are again in the 
open. Though we have enjoyed a rare art feast, let 
us now walk around the outer side of St. Peter's and 
enter the vast collection of antiquities. We go direct 
to the Cortile del Belvedere. The extent and magnifi- 
cence of the gallery of sculpture is perfectly amazing. 
The halls are filled to overflowing with the master- 
pieces of ancient art which would, if placed side by 
side, make a row more than two miles in length. The 
statues suggest "the land of lost gods and god-like 
men. ' ' The first corner cabinet reveals a scene of the 
deepest physical agony in the original and deservedly 
famous group of Laocoon, the priest who, with his two 
sons, was strangled by serpents under the command 
of the offended Apollo. 

The next niche discloses the Apollo Belvedere which 
represents the finest classic mold of face and form for 
male humanity. Was it not Byron who said? — "View 
the lord of the unerring bow, the God of Life and 
Poesy and Light, the sun in human limbs arrayed, and 
brow all radiant from his triumph in the fight. " 

In the third cabinet there are three statues all exe- 
cuted by Canova. In the center stands Perseus hold- 
ing the Gorgon head aloft, while at either side are the 
Boxers. The one who has drawn back in the attitude 
of striking looks as if he could fell an ox with a single 
blow of his powerful arm. The other is a more lithe 
and agile figure, and there is a quick fire in his coun- 
tenance which might overbalance the massive strength 
of his opponent. 

The museum's closing hour has come, and we must 
take our leave, though we feel we have hardly made a 
beginning. On our way to the sorti let us pause before 



\02 



Glimpses Around the World 



the lovely colossal statue of "Sleeping Ariadne," an- 
other Vatican gem. This is the only marble statue 
with eye-lashes. We marvel at the wonderful drapery, 
and the naturalness of the restless sleeper who has 
thrown her right arm over her head. 

Placards posted in the streets, and about the hotel 
tell us that to-night the Colosseum is to be illuminated 
and a spectacular performance will be held in the 
midst of the ruins of the most celebrated building in 
the world. When we recall that the Colosseum orig- 
inally seated eighty-seven thousand persons and 
gave standing space to twenty-two thousand more, 
we wonder if it will be necessary for us to rush in order 
to procure seats for to-night's performance. What 
glory and fame are associated with this single edifice, 
which above all others reveals a wonderful skill in 
masonry and great architectural strength. To-night 
there are lights, noise, and crowds of people grouped 
near the Colosseum. When we reach the scene, 
torches are burning within the ruined arena where 
camp-chairs serve the audience as seats. The enter- 
tainment is of little interest, but the fact that we are 
attending a performance where once the eager specta- 
tors, who must have had the treasures of the world at 
their command, witnessed the conflict of gladiators, 
is to us a memorable occasion. Underneath the yellow 
sand and sawdust-strewn arena was once a solid pave- 
ment so closely cemented that we have been told it 
could be turned into an artificial lake on which naval 
battles were fought. What leisure and indolence 
must have marked a city which could afford to give up 
so much time to demoralizing sports! We can hardly 
conceive of the one hundred days of the games of Titus 
held at the dedication of the Colosseum when five 
thousand wild beasts were slaughtered in this arena. 
With Dickens we see it, " crumbling there an inch a 




o 



£ 



The Garden of Europe 305 

year; its walls and arches overgrown with green; its 
corridors open to the day; the long grass growing in 
its porches; young trees of yesterday springing up on 
its ragged parapets and bearing fruit, chance product 
of the seeds dropped there by the birds who build their 
nests within its chinks and crannies. To see the tri- 
umphal arches of Const ant ine, Septimus Severus, and 
Titus; the Roman Forum, the Palaces of the Caesars, 
the temples of the old religion fallen down and gone, 
is to see the ghost of old Rome, wicked, wonderful old 
city, haunting the very ground on which its people 
trod. It is the most impressive, the most stately, 
the most solemn, grand, majestic, mournful sight con- 
ceivable. Never in its bloodiest prime, can the sight 
of the gigantic Colosseum, full and running over with 
the lustiest life, have moved one heart, as it must move 
all who look upon it now, a ruin — God be thanked: a 
ruin! A mountain among graves. " 

Wednesday morning dawns with sunshine, and after 
an early breakfast of luscious tangerines we take a 
conveyance to what is known as the Rag Market, which 
is held one morning each week. From the Piazza 
delta Cancelleria we make our way through a narrow 
street to the scene of bargaining. We have encoun- 
tered tourists at every place of interest since our 
arrival in the Eternal City, but here at this Rag Fair 
all the tourists within the area of Roma seem to have 
congregated. The section of booths devoted to the 
display of antique brasses is the center of attraction. 
There are door-knockers, the Hebraic candle-sticks 
with seven branches, reproductions of many classic 
statues, besides innumerable oddities which promptly 
cause a depression in the sides of our purses. 

The Pantheon is within walking distance. Let us 
step inside the circular mausoleum which was originally 
dedicated to the gods of the seven planets, and pay 



306 Glimpses Around the World 

our respects to the late King Umberto, as well as to 
view the resting place of the immortal Raphael, whose 
epitaph translated by Pope reads, " Living, great 
Nature feared he might outvie her works ; and, dying, 
fears herself to die. ' ' 

There is a cab waiting at the entrance, let us engage 
it and drive to the Forum Romanum. We can enjoy 
a general survey of the political center of ancient Rome 
in this manner. We recognize the eight columns 
standing on a high base as the remains of the Temple 
of Saturn. Here are the three splendid marble columns 
belonging to the Temple of Castor and Pollux, which 
was dedicated out of gratitude to the twin gods, when 
the Romans defeated the Latins nearly 500 B. C. 
To the north, seventy- five feet in height, rises the Tri- 
umphal Arch of Septimius Severus, while nearer the 
center of the forum our attention is called to the 
Temple and Rostra of Julius Caesar. Was it here that 
Mark Antony delivered his celebrated oration? In- 
scriptions on a recently excavated massive black stone 
lead archaeologists to believe that they have discovered 
the burial site of Romulus. 

We must visit the historical Capitol Hill and peep 
into the museum if only to catch a glimpse of the 
statue of the Dying Gaul. We find this masterpiece 
of an unknown sculptor to be an anatomical model. 

Who can describe our feelings of admiration and sym- 
pathy as we look upon the statue, better than Lord 
Byron? when he wrote: 

"I see before me the Gladiator lie; he leans upon 
his hand, his manly brow consents to death, but 
conquers agony. And his droop 'd head sinks grad- 
ually low, and through his side the last drops, ebbing 
slow from the red gash, fall heavy, one by one, like 
the first of a thunder shower, and now the Arena 
swims around him — he is gone, ere ceased the inhuman 



The Garden of Europe 



3°7 



shout which, hailed the wretch who won. He heard 
it, but he heeded not— his eyes were with his heart, 
and that was far away; he reck'd not of the life he 
lost, nor prize, but where his rude hut by the Danube 
lay, there were his young barbarians all at play, there 
was their Dacian mother — he their sire butcher 'd 
to make a Roman holiday — all this rush'd with his 









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The Dying Gaul. 



blood. Shall he expire and unavenged? Arise! Ye 
Goths, and glut your ire." 

Ah! there is so much that we must leave unseen in 
Rome. We feel as if we could live here a lifetime 
studying, enjoying, thinking, only to feel at the end 
as if our acquaintance with the city was just beginning. 

"Rome without her fountains would not be Rome; 
every memory of her includes them, " and as we con- 
tinue our drive we pause before the most magnificent 
fountain in the city, the Fountain of Trevi, and throw 



308 Glimpses Around the World 

a coin into the large stone basin. Tradition records 
that this action will insure our early return to this 
interesting city. 

In the richly- adorned Basilica San Giovanni in 
Laterano repose the remains of the late Pope Leo XIII, 
a splendid marble monument near the high altar marks 
the spot. Under the portico on the north side of the 
church we find the Scala Santa. This stairway is 
supposed to have belonged to the house of Pilate, 
where Christ descended on his way to Calvary. This 
recalls to our minds the Via Dolorosa in Jerusalem from 
whence the devout Helena is said to have brought the 
steps. For fifteen hundred years these twenty-eight 
stone steps have been held in special reverence by the 
Roman Catholic Church. They are protected by a 
wooden covering, no feet are allowed to touch them, 
and all penitent Catholics make the ascent on their 
knees, praying as they kiss each step. We ascend by a 
side stair-case to view the Sancta Sanctorum the chapel 
at the top where only the Pope can officiate at the 
altar. 

We remember Lord Byron said, "Guido Reni's 
Aurora is worth journeying to Rome to see, " and so we 
make our way to the Palazzo Rospigliosi. We find the 
ceiling of the Casino, or garden house, adorned with 
the well-known "cloud drama." The freshness of its 
coloring is the first noticeable feature, for we can recall 
no fresco dating from the sixteenth century which 
has been so well preserved. It seems difficult to gaze 
at a ceiling decoration, so, for convenience sake, let 
us use the mirror which We find on a near-by table. 
The looking-glass reflects Phoebus, the lordly Sun, 
who in his car of gold is urging on the prancing steeds 
which he drives daily across the heavens. Here is the 
chubby torch bearer, Lucifer, and in advance we see 
the morning star Aurora, who gracefully leads the way 



The Garden of Europe 



109 



as she scatters lovely flowers. Only seven of the lithe 
maidens who represent the hours are grouped about 
the chariot. Guido Reni's masterpiece is indeed an 
ethereal poem. A rent in the cloudy background 
discloses the earth; its land, sea, walled cities and 




The Capuccini Catacombs. 

fortified castles reminding us of the sleeping world 
below. 

Once more in the street, let us drive past the Palazzo 
Margherita where the Queen Dowager of Italy dwells, 
and stop before the Church of the Capuccini. After 
viewing Guido Reni's Conception of St. Michael, some- 
times called the "Catholic Apollo," trampling on the 
Devil, we engage the services of one of the attending 
monks and visit the Catacombs which lie below the 
church. In size they cannot be compared with those 



310 Glimpses Around the World 

of St. Calixtus which may be entered from the Via 
Appia, but in construction the Catacombs of the Cap- 
uccini are unique. The walls and ceiling of the four 
burial vaults are adorned with human bones arranged 
in fanciful designs while in the corners departed monks 
of the order are hanging up in their brown garbs to dry. 

The priest who serves us as guide speaks some Eng- 
lish, and he tells us in a cheerful tone of voice that some 
day his dried body will hang here as ornamentation. 
We are quite satisfied to make our way out of this 
gruesomeness into the sunshine and realize again the 
joy of living. 

Let us wander along the Corso, the long and busy 
thoroughfare lined with attractive shops which is the 
commercial Rome of to-day. In the Piazza di Spagna 
we invest in souvenirs of Roman silks, and pearls made 
from marble. Returning to our hotel we pass several 
groups of young men who are pupils from the propa- 
ganda. Those dressed in red are Germans and Hun- 
garians. The North American representatives are 
robed in black with blue lining and red girdles. 

We shall abide by the suggestion of Augustus Hare 
who tells us, "there is one point which cannot be suf- 
ficiently impressed upon those who wish to take away 
more than a mere surface impression of Rome; it is, 
never to see too much, never to try to 'do' Rome. 
Better far to leave half the ruins and nine-tenths of the 
churches unseen and to see well the rest. It is only 
by returning again and again, by allowing the ' feeling' 
of Rome to gain upon you, that Rome engraves itself 
upon your heart." 

Then from the very soil of silent Rome, 
You shall grow wise, and walking, live again 
The lives of buried peoples, and become 
A child by right of that eternal home, 
Cradle and grave of empires, on whose walls 
The sun himself subdued to reverence falls. 

John Addington Svmonds. 



The Garden of Europe 



311 



The afternoon train carries us north close to the 
western coast. We have prepared ourselves with 
luncheon and en route purchase straw-covered bottles 
of Chianti (red wine) from the Buffet Stazione. We 




Pisa's Leaning Tower. 

have been warned against drinking other than bottled 
water. Shortly before midnight our train reaches 
Pisa, a quiet winter resort only six miles from the sea. 
We spend the night at a comfortable hotel on the 
Lungarno Regio and in the early morning make our 



312 Glimpses Around the World 

way to the show spot of this old Etruscan city, Piazza 
del Duomo. The Cathedral, Baptistery, Leaning Tower 
and Campo Santo are all of pure white marble. We 
are told the early Pisans built the Duomo to honor the 
Virgin who had given them victory over the Saracens 
of Sardinia. Its four rows of Corinthian columns 
surmounted by arcades, and the flat ceiling and small 
windows allowing the walls to exhibit the grandeur 
and solidity of their mass, remind us of the Roman 
basilicas we have left behind. It was in this Cathedral 
that the Italian astronomer, Galileo, seeing a chandelier 
swinging, conceived the invention of "the pendulum. 
The adjoining Baptistery resembles the Cathedral in 
style of construction, as does also the famous Leaning 
Tower which perhaps interests us the most. This bell 
tower measures one hundred and eighty-one feet in 
height and about fifty-one feet in diameter at the base. 
The pictures of this slanting wonder of the world 
are not exaggerated, for we find it actually inclines 
thirteen feet and eight inches towards the south. 
Though many theoretical explanations have been given, 
it is now generally believed the sinking took place 
during its construction and the efforts made to correct 
it, by. diminishing the height of the stages on the 
north side resulted in a convexity of about ten inches 
to the south. The spire originally designed was not 
built on account of the continued sinking of the 
foundation. 

Being in a party, we are allowed upon the payment 
of thirty centesimi each to ascend the three hundred 
steps of the eight stories, each of which has an outside 
projecting gallery. When we reach the top where the 
seven massive bells are swinging we feel repaid for the 
climb. Here is a beautiful view of the old town, the 
River Arno flowing to the sea, while to the north and 
east rise snowy mountain peaks. The streets near 



The Garden of Europe 313 

the piazza are lined with, shops devoted to marble 
sculpture. We take the mid-day train on to Florence 
which lies some three-hours' ride to the east. 

Ah ! La bella Firenze, means much ; the birthplace 
of the exiled Dante, the residence of Boccaccio (bok- 
ka'-cho) , the scene of the labors of the father of modern 
painting Cimabue (che-md-bo'-a), of Giotto (jotto), 
Brunelleschi (bro-nel-les'-ke), Luca della Robbia, Dona- 
tello, Lippi, Ghirlandajo (ger-ldn-dd' -yd) the garland 
maker, of the good Dominican Friar whose frescos won 
for him the name of Fra Angelico, Leonardo da Vinci, 
Raphael, Michelangelo, Andrea del Sarto and Savon- 
arola, which is of all names perhaps the most essentially 
Florentine. Here was the seat of the powerful des- 
potic Medicidy nasty, and here during the first half 
of the fifteenth century the world saw the dawn of 
Italian Renaissance, the result of which was the revival 
of the intellectual culture of the Fine Arts. 

At the Stazione Centrale we engage a facchini (porter) 
to transport our baggage and then drive to a comfort- 
able hotel situated on the Lungamo. 

We shall make our formal introduction to the lily city 
by taking an electric tram ride across the Arno and up 
the height of San Miniato to the lovely Piazzale Michel- 
angelo which is adorned with a bronze statue of the 
•master's David. From this point we obtain a splendid 
view of lovely Florence. We can distinguish the 
Duomo, Baptistery and towering Campanile, while there 
rises Santa Croce, the Palazzo Vecchio and Uffizi, and 
beyond Fiesole and the distant campagna. Though 
this general view is charming, we long to roam 
through the dear old streets, each of which suggests 
some great artistic achievement, for indeed every turn 
in Florence brings us face to face with the memory of 
some world-famed master. Once more we are on 
the right and busier side of the Arno. and English 



314 Glimpses Around the World 

speaking shopkeepers try to tempt us with their artistic 
jewelry, mosaics and majolica. 

As we walk through the arcade or portico of the 
Uffizi Palace, whose niches are adorned with marble 
statues of celebrated Tuscans, we are conscious that 
Florence remembers her famous men. Once through 
the arcade, we find ourselves in the Piazza delta Sig- 
noria. To our right rises the citadel of Florentine 
liberty. The Palazzo Vecchio is a castle-like building 
now used as a town hall. We find its interior elabo- 
rately decorated with sculpture and frescos which 
are suggestive of the history of this Tuscan capital. 
We glance up at its slender tower and muse over fif- 
teenth century scenes of triumph and agony. 

If we follow the spiral stairway which leads to the 
very top of the tower, we can see the tiny room and 
stone bench which served as the hideous cell of Savon- 
arola, who lay here during weary painful days while 
his enemies prepared his death sentence. In the 
piazza, which is still an important center for business 
and pleasure, we are shown the spot upon which the 
scaffold was built where the prior of San Marco and 
two other Dominican monks were burned on the fateful 
twenty-third of May, 1498. Involuntarily we look 
up and across into the windows of the quaint old 
buildings which surround the square. Do we fancy 
we shall recognize the sweet, sad face of Romola who 
gazed from these shuttered windows? 

Here is the magnificent vaulted hall known as the 
Loggia dei Lanzi. It was built in order that public 
ceremonies might be solemnized in the open air. Now 
we find it serves as an open-air art gallery. We recog- 
nize Cellini's bronze statue of Perseus holding the 
head of Medusa, and the marble group of the Rape 
of the Sabines, by Bologna. 

Walking along the busy Via Calzaioli leads us directly 



The Garden of Europe 315 

to the Piazza Duomo. Here we stand before the 
Duomo, while opposite is the Battistero di S. Giovanni 
Battista and at the side rises the "Shepherd Tower," 
as Ruskin calls the Giotto Campanile, straight as an 
arrow and lovely as a lily, linking as it were the two 
other majestic buildings. The white square belfry 
rising two hundred and ninety-two feet from the pave- 
ment is richly adorned with mosaics and paneling of 
inlaid red and green stone. The effect is jewel-like, 
and seated here, in the midst of the busiest square in 
Florence, its loveliness only seems to be enhanced. 
The gnawing fingers of decay have been gentle in their 
handling of this, the most decorative structure in 
Florence. 

In the old Tuscan town stands Giotto's tower, 
The lily of Florence blossoming in stone, — 
A vision, a delight and a desire, — 
The builder's perfect and centennial flower, 
That in the night of ages bloomed alone, 
But wanting still the glory of the spire. 

We recall how Giotto, the light that shone early on 
the darkened Middle Ages, came upon the Florentine 
scene during the last half of the thirteenth century, 
when all art conditions were permeated by the somber 
coloring of the Byzantine atmosphere. The Byzantine 
style originated in Constantinople, it made its way 
across the Adriatic into Italy, where it held sway until 
the glorious reawakening, or Renaissance. We have 
often heard the expression "round as Giotto's O," 
but not until last evening, when we met an art student 
who finds special pleasure in the glories of this artist's 
efforts, did we learn its derivation; Pope Boniface 
VIII sent courtiers to Florence to bring a specimen of 
the work of this artist, Giotto. When the messengers 
reached the great master, he merely drew his right arm 
close to his body, after dipping a brush in red paint, 
and struck off a perfect circle. This specimen con- 



316 Glimpses Around the World 

vinced the potentate of Giotto's remarkable skill and 
carried the shepherd boy artist to Rome as a mosaicist. 

The exterior of the Duomo is elaborate in its con- 
struction, but its interior seems disappointing and un- 
attractive. A priest is conducting prayers before the 
huge burning tapers at the right altar, and as we gaze 
we seem to hear Savonarola thundering forth his 
eloquence. Twenty-four architects are said to have 
met to decide upon the form of this choir and dome, 
but Filippo Brunelleschi deserves the credit of the 
construction of this building, which, at the time of its 
completion was the largest church in Italy. A closed 
carriage waiting in front of the Baptistery tells us that 
a christening is being performed ; if we hurry across 
the street we may be in time for the ceremony. This 
octagon edifice is one of the finest specimens of Tuscan- 
Romanesque style in existence. We pass the cele- 
brated bronze doors on which master artists portrayed 
well-known religious scenes, and our attention is im- 
mediately drawn to the scene at the font whence a 
baby's cry is heard to come. A generous-sized priest 
in flowing robe is officiating while the young, embar- 
rassed father stands near the attending nurse-maid. 
We do not blame the poor, red-faced, two-days-old 
baby for squealing when the holy official makes 
the sign of the cross on the tiny head and gruffly sticks 
his fat thumb in the infant's mouth as he pronounces 
its name Giovanni, the Italian for John. Every 
child born in Florence is baptized here. When we find 
ourselves again in the square, and the christening party 
have journeyed homeward, we decide to return to our 
hotel for luncheon. 

Oh ! what can be the meaning of this gruesome sight ? 
A group of some half dozen men in black robes, black 
caps and black masks, with only peep-holes for the 
eyes, have come out from yonder building. They are 



The Garden of Europe 317 

rapidly walking in our direction, some are carrying a 
black shrouded litter, while others bear huge burning 
tapers. Alas! there is no interpreter near to explain 
this weird spectacle. While partaking of our noon 
meal of deliciously tender macaroni served with grated 
cheese, we again meet our newly-acquired artist friend. 
He tells us that these men whom we have seen are 
members of the Misericordia, or Brothers of Charity, 
an organization founded about six hundred years ago 
during a siege of pestilence. Because of quarantine 
the sufferers of the contagion were left uncared-for, 
until several good-hearted tradesmen banded together 
as these Brothers of Charity. They wore the black 
garb that none should know who administered to the 
sick and dead, and thus none suffered quarantine. 
The plague abated, but the organization did not 
disband, and to this day, as we have just seen, the cus- 
tom and dress of the charter members is continued. 
When the cathedral bell tolls twice for an accident 
and three times for a death, a certain number of the 
present-day members meet at their headquarters, the 
building we saw in the Piazza Duomo, and donning 
their gloomy costumes perform their duties. They 
never eat nor drink in the house to which they are 
summoned. 

This afternoon let us make our way to the Piazza 
Santa Croce. A splendid Dante monument erected 
with appropriate solemnity on the six hundredth 
anniversary of the birth of the great poet graces the 
center of the square. Here is the Westminster of 
Italy. We mount the steps and enter the church of 
Santa Croce which is built in the form of the letter 
"T. " In the right aisle we pause before the tomb 
of the most overwhelming personality in the history 
of modern art. Below the marble monument adorned 
with allegorical figures of architecture, painting and 



3i8 Glimpses Around the World 

sculpture, repose the remains of Michelangelo. A few 
steps beyond is a splendid cenotaph to Dante, who 
never returned to Florence after his exile, his ashes 
being interred in Ravenna. " That tender Dante 
loved his Florence well, while Florence, now to love 
him is content. " We see the colossal figure of Poetry 
weeping over the empty urn, interpreting Florence's 
regret in being deprived of the poet's ashes. The 
splendid figure of Dante is seated above, with his head 
inclined as if in meditation. 

In the opposite aisle we find Galileo's tomb adorned 
with a life-like bust, and figures suggestive of his great 
astronomical life-work. According to Ruskin's advice 
let us enter the chapel next to the high altar of this 
Franciscan church of Florence, "the most interesting 
and perfect little Gothic chapel in all Italy. ' ' We 
do not seem to be appreciative of its extreme beauty. 
As for the portrait of St. Francis taken from life, and 
referred to by the English critic, we cannot even dis- 
tinguish the faded outline of the features. The vaulted 
ceiling and general crude construction of the church 
leads us to understand that this structure was built for 
use instead of beauty. We venerate the plain and 
gloomy edifice because of the illustrious dead whose 
remains it holds. In the picturesque cloisters of this 
Florentine Pantheon are the monuments to several old 
aristocratic families whose names are linked with Ital- 
ian history. 

Let us now walk down Via Buonarroti and visit the 
tablet-marked house of "the many-handed Michel- 
angelo," which was bequeathed to the city as a 
museum. The exhibit is on the second floor. A 
miniature ivory bust of the master-artist occupies the 
center of the first room. In the Study the custodian 
shows us his many sketches and architectural draw- 
ings, his book-case and safety vaults. Having com- 



The Garden of Europe 



319 



pleted the statue of "Moses," Michelangelo is said 
to have struck the colossal figure with his hammer, 
crying "speak to me," in his enthusiasm, unfortu- 




The Cloisters of Santa Croce. 



nately cracking the marble of this crown of modern 
sculpture. 

Passing through the Piazza delta Annunziata we 
pause before the Spedale degli Innocent-i, the Foundling 
Hospital, whose facade is adorned with the well-known 



320 Glimpses Around the World 

majolica medallions of Luca della Robbia's infants in 
swaddling clothes. This is not visiting day, so we 
cannot see the interior of the hospital, but several sweet, 
pale-faced infants are peering from the upper windows. 

The monastery of San Marco is the next place which 
especially attracts our attention. Not the plain old 
building, which has gone forever from its friars, but 
the spirit of its early prior, the eloquent Savonarola, 
and the rainbow-colored Fra Angelico, whose pictures 
are more than a work of art, for they reveal the human 
soul of their creator. In this old monastery we find 
frescos which to this day are unrivaled in their por- 
trayal of devout piety. Let us visit the old Chapter 
House where George Eliot tells us Romola met Savon- 
arola. About the walls are the angelic figures. Which 
do we like the best, this one in ruby red, the passion 
color, lifting her golden trumpet to God; that one in 
blue drapery, bearing her message of heavenly love, 
or the sunny yellow creation who brings light to those 
in darkness? As we look into the individual cells, 
each of which has been decorated by the painter- 
monk, their former inmate, we recall how II Beate, 
or the blessed, as Angelico was called, was commis- 
sioned by the then reigning Pope to become arch- 
bishop of Florence. Fra Angelico is said to have re- 
plied, "I can paint pictures but I can't rule men." 
He suggested the name of his brother monk, Fra An- 
tonio, who proved the wisest archbishop Florence 
ever had. Cell number thirteen contains the well- 
known portrait of Savonarola, by Fra Bartolommeo. 

By the time we reach the Accademia delle Belle Arti 
we find it is the hour of closing, and we are disappointed 
that we cannot view the rare collection of works by 
pre-Raphaelites, and the original statue of David 
which Michelangelo, when a mere youth, created 
from a spoiled and abandoned block of marble. We 



The Garden of Europe 321 

must be content in the thought Springer has given us, 
when he says: 

" No plastic work of Michelangelo earned such a 
harvest of laudation among his contemporaries as his 
David; Vasari sings the praises of the miracle- worker, 
who raised the dead, spoiled block to new life, and 
assures us the Michelangelo's David is vastly superior 
to all ancient and modern statues whatever. The 
boldness and assured touch of the great sculptor 
certainly awake our admiring astonishment. Not 
only the subject was prescribed to him, but also its 
size and proportions, added to which he was confined 
to the narrowest limits for the development of the 
attitude and motion. 

"Yet this constraint is not perceptible, and the his- 
tory of the statue could by no means be divined from 
its appearance. Outwardly the demeanor of the 
young hero is composed and quiet, but each limb is 
animated by a common impulse from within, and the 
whole body is braced up for one action. The raised 
left arm holds the sling in readiness, the right hand 
hanging at his side holds the handle of the sling; 
next instant he will make the attack. ' ' 

We wander along the Via Tomabuoni, a favorite 
tourists ' thoroughfare, and say with the beloved Eliza- 
beth Barrett Browning: 

For me who stand in Italy to-day 

Where worthier poets stood and sang before, 

I kiss their footsteps, yet their words gainsay. 
I can but muse in hope upon this shore 

Of golden Arno as it shoots away. 

Through Florence heart beneath her bridges four. 

The morning sky is shrouded in dreary-looking clouds. 
The galleries do not open until ten o'clock so we shall 
have time to visit the market. In the Mercato, which 
presents a busy scene, especially around the flower 
stalls and those devoted to the sale of Leghorn and 



o-~ 



Glimpses Around the World 



Tuscan straw hats, we recognize "Tessas" huddling 
about a few T charcoals which are burning in a small 
crockery receptacle known as a scaldino. One lira 
admits its to the Uffizi gallery, which originated 
with the Medici collection. We mount the stairway 
and make our way directly to the "La Tribuna, " 
which is recognized was the gem of the hole gallery. 
As we traverse the arch-lined corridors, we find it 
almost a hardship to pass so many beautiful creations 
without even a glance. We push aside the royal crim- 
son drapery and enter the Tribune, " paved with pre- 
cious marbles and the ceiling studded with precious 
mother-of-pearl. ' ' Though the light of the octagonal- 
shaped room is subdued, our attention is immediately 
drawn to the faultless form of the Venus de Medici, 
often called the "goddess living in stone." This 
Greek standard by which all beauty may be measured 
was probably created in the time of Augustus. It 
stands only five feet in height. The highly finished, 
undraped figure is graceful but its face seems expression- 
less. Glancing about the room we notice that we are 
surrounded by masterpieces. We are in doubt which 
to choose as our favorite. Here is Raphael's portrait 
known as "Fornarina," there is the young St. John in 
the Desert, and there Titian's "Venus of Urbino." 
We are bewildered. Shall we cross the passage which, 
spanning the Arno, connects the Uifizi with the 
Pitti Palace art exhibit? No collection in Italy can 
boast of such an array of masterpieces interspersed 
with so few works of subordinate merit as this royal 
picture gallery. We gaze upon Raphael's Madonna 
dclla Scdia, perhaps the most popular modern work of 
art, to study its marvelous expression of human char- 
acter, its angelic countenances and charming grouping. 
Look at these three weird ghost-like sisters which are 
Michelangelo's conception of the old Greek idea of 



The Garden of Europe 



3 2 3 



the Fates. In contrast, here is the Spanish colorist 
Murillo's sweet-faced Madonna and Child, and near- 
by hangs Andrea del Sarto's "Descent from the 
Cross. 

Our eyes and mind are tired, let us remember the 
advice of Augustus Hare which we followed in Rome 
and take our leave. Adjoining the Pitti Palace are the 




Casa Guidi. 



most beautiful gardens in Italy, called Boboli. The 
quaint old shops in the narrow winding streets of this 
left bank of the Arno are fascinating. Here are lovely 
gilded carved wooden frames which are typical of 
Florence, made to enclose porcelain miniatures of the 
masterpieces. They will be greatly appreciated by 
the dear ones at home. There are unique majolica 



324 Glimpses Around the World 

ornaments and innumerable silversmith novelties. 
Lo! here is the Casa Guidi, where a slab tells all who 
pass that this is the Florentine home of the Brown- 
ings. Here Elizabeth Barrett Browning "wrote a 
meditation and a dream, hearing a little child sing in 
the street. " Here their son, who now owns the house, 
w r as born. 

We love to recall the harmonious affection which 
existed between the high-minded English poet and his 
beloved wife. She, in her love for the matchless city of 
the Arno, has given us charming glimpses through 
her "Casa Guido Windows." 

A few minutes' walk leads us into the Via dci Bardi 
where every stone seems to tell us how the scholarly 
Bar do planned to write the first epoch of humanism, and 
how the wicked Tito stealthily schemed his own success 
through the downfall of others, until suddenly fortune 
overturned his treacherous plots. We feel again the 
sufferings of the heroic Romola, whom we seem to see 
as her blind old father did, " only as something vague 
and shining. ' ' 

Crossing the quaint and picturesque Ponte Vecchio, 
which existed as early as the Roman period, we can 
hardly realize it is a bridge, for this covered passage 
spanning the Arno is flanked with shops that have 
belonged to the goldsmiths since the fourteenth century, 
when the art or trade of the goldsmith was most hon- 
ored, and counted its members among the greatest of 
Florentine artists. Dainty filigree gold and silver 
brooches, pins, necklaces, chains and rings attract the 
passers-by, and we find these profitable shops in which 
to bargain for souvenirs. 

The Browning association still lingers in our 
memory, so we make our way to the old Prot- 
estant cemetery where we find a simple monument 
marked " E. B. B." As we stand before the grave 



The Garden of Europe 



3 2 5 



of the beloved Elizabeth Barrett Browning, in her 
own words we say: 

And here among the English tombs, 

In Tuscan ground we lay her, 
While the blue Tuscan sky endomes 

Our English words of prayer. 

But God gives patience ; love learns strength, 

And faith remembers promise, 
And hope itself can smile at length 

On other hopes gone from us. 

The afterglow of the sinking sun promises fair 
weather to-morrow. The past days have been gray and 
bleak, and although we have been too busy sight- 
seeing to mind the dull sky, we are conscious that sun- 
shine is necessary for comfort during the winter, where 
artificial heating apparatus is a luxury. 

Good luck is ours, the dawning day is clear. At an 
early hour we engage a carriage, and drive some three 
miles to the north, to the picturesque height of the 
ancient town of Fiesole. During the ascent our atten- 
tion is called to the cozy villa where Bocklin, the late 
impressionalistic German artist spent much time. We 
pass the old acropolis which formerly served as a fort- 
ress, and, standing beside its wall, gaze upon a never- 
to-be-forgotten panorama; yonder stretch the purple- 
robed Apenines; there in the valley olive groves are 
sprinkled with comfortable villas, while in front lies 
"the Italian Athens" in all its loveliness. Naples 
is beautiful, Rome is majestic, but Florence is lovable. 
Like a dear friend, its memories will always be riveted 
to our heart and brain. 

The noon-day train carries us northeast to visit 
the "Queen of the Adriatic." We pass through vast 
vineyards, some of which are said to produce as many 
as five hundred barrels of wine each year. Here vino 
is the universal beverage of all classes. Though this 
pure blood of the grape is used in enormous quantities 



326 Glimpses Around the World 

we find far less intoxication than is seen in our own 
country. Mountainous scenery proves a pleasing 
diversion during our day of travel. 

It is sunset when our train crosses the long railroad 
bridge, and with eager expectation we alight at the 
station of Venezia and call a blue-coated facchini, 
or porter, to care for our hand-baggage. English- 
speaking guides with metallic labels offer their services 
but we heed them not. Let us engage a cab and drive 
to one of the first-class hotels near the Piazza San 
Marco. A few steps along the station platform lead 
us to the Grand Canal. See! the watery cab-stand. 
We step into a queer-shaped but graceful-looking, 
black-hooded row boat. This gondola has upholstered 
seating accommodations for six persons. At the rear 
of the craft stands the brawny oarsman, or poppc, 
named from the poppa on which he stands. We are 
ready, Mr. Gondolier, to watch you dexterously wield- 
ing your oar with your strong, brown arms while you 
brace your feet firmly against the gunwale. You 
need not hurry, the evening is lovely, and although the 
spring is the busiest tourist season, we are sure of hotel 
accommodations, having engaged them through letter. 
What a delight is each new experience ! Several other 
"water cabs" are plying along this principal artery 
for the circulation of the whole city. A low lapping of 
water, then we watch the silvery paths these rhythmi- 
cal conveyances leave behind in the gray sea water. 

How light we move, how softly. Ah, 
Were life but as the gondola. 

At either side of the seventy-five yards of waterway 
rises the outline of palace facades, rare examples of 
the classic severity and the elegant fantasy of the 
Renaissance. The reflection of the sun's afterglow 
sheds an opaline atmosphere over all, reminding us of a 



The Garden of Europe 



327 



fairy-like spectacle, or some dream city of the ethereal 
regions. Here on the right is the ancient Palazza 
Vendramin Calergi, one of the most beautiful architec- 
tural masterpieces in Venice. Notice its marvelously 
delicate carving. It was here that Richard Wagner 
died. On the opposite side of the canal is another 
example of the Renaissance. We agree with Fergus- 




Venice's Principal Artery 



son who says, " This Palazzo Pesaro is a singularly 
picturesque piece of palatial architecture. ' ' Do please 
look again to the right at the embroidered effect of this 
charming Palazzo della Ca d' Oro, or castle of gold. It 
is a fantastic contrivance of Grecian, Gothic, and Bar- 
barian styles, and appears so aerial in- its construction, 
that we believe it must have been made for the nest of a 



328 Glimpses Around the World 

sylph. We pass through the marble arch of the Ponte 
di Rialto. The gondolier points to the inconspicuous 
Palazzo Loredan, which Ruskin says is "the most 
beautiful palace in the whole extent of the Grand 
Canal. ' ' There are Byzantine, Saracen, Lombard, 
Gothic, Roman and Greek designs reproduced in the 
structures we pass. Out of the stillness come the 
musical voices of the gondoliers. We hear the cry 
sa premi, which tells us yonder "poppe" will turn 
his bark to the left. Stat means to the right.. 
Everything about us is so fascinating we give no 
thought to the danger of a collision. Here is the large 
Palazzo Rezzonico. On its wall, facing the side canal, 
is a memorial tablet to Robert Browning who died 
here in 1889. Lord Byron lived in yonder Palazzo 
Mocenigo. The Gothic Palazzo Falter was once occu- 
pied by W. D. Howells. Opposite the imposing cathe- 
dral 5. Maria della Salute is a fourteenth century 
Gothic structure, the "House of Desdemona," which 
was recently the home of Signora Eleonora 
Duse. 

While we have been glancing about, darkness has 
come upon the scene. The lights of the moving gon- 
dolas are rivaled by the twinkling stars. We disem- 
bark near the gayly-illuminated Piazza San Marco. 
Did you notice the man with the hook pole who held 
the boat as we alighted? He is called a ganzuri, or a 
hooker, and it is customary to give him two soldi. 
After paying our gondolier one lira and seventy-five 
centesimi, we take up our abode in a comfortable hotel 
that faces on the Riva delgi Schiavoni. From our 
rooms we look out over the now darkened Candle di 
S. Marco, from whence the voices of serenading gon- 
doliers are wafted to us. In the nearby Piazza S. 
Marco, the gay Venetians' open-air drawing room, there 
is music and revelry. 



The Garden of Europe 329 

We are in Venice, " The bride of the sea, " the field- 
less, treeless city which is built upon some hundred 
islands, with more than one hundred and fifty canals 
spanned by nearly four hundred bridges. Why did a 
people ever choose these seemingly unproductive islands 
as an abode? History records how the Venetians 
sought refuge in these lagoons of the Adriatic, where 
they built a town. They saw wealth in the salt that 
lined their shores. Like a magic tale, their industry 
made their situation advantageous, and Goethe tells 
us: 

" New buildings arose close against dwellings, rocks 
took the place of sand and marsh, houses sought the 
sky, being forced like trees enclosed in a narrow com- 
pass, to seek in height what was denied to them in 
.breadth. Being niggard of every inch of ground, as 
having been from the outset compressed into a narrow 
compass, they allowed no more room for the streets 
than was absolutely necessary for separating one row 
of houses from another, and affording a narrow way 
for passengers. Moreover, water was at once street, 
square, and promenade. The Venetian was forced 
to become a new creature, and Venice can be compared 
only with itself. ' ' 

Laughing sunbeams penetrate into our chambers 
heralding the beginning of day, while cathedral bells 
proclaim the anniversary of the patron-saint. In the 
Piazzetta rise the two important monumental columns, 
one of the far-famed lion of St. Mark, the other a 
statue of St. Theodore, the protector of the republic, 
standing on a crocodile, representing the power of 
the Spirit of God in all noble and useful animal 
life, and conquering what is venomous, useless, or in 
decay. 

Venice is a religious city. At an early hour we find 
the Piazza and Cathedral crowded with Venetians in 



33° Glimpses Around the World 

holiday attire. Have all the lovely Madonnas and 
Bambinos stepped from their canvases to pay homage 
to their Venetian father this morning? Not all can 
have descended from their artistic settings, for we find 
the rare mosaics and frescos of the exterior and in- 




The Venetians' Open-Air Drawing Room. 



terior of this lovely cathedral more beautiful than we 
had dared to hope. 

We remember Howells says: 

"The religious sentiment is deeply appealed to in 
the interior of St. Mark's, but if its interior is heaven's, 
its exterior, like a good man's daily life, is earth's; 
and it is this winning loveliness of earth that first 
attracts you to it, and when you emerge from its 
portals you emerge upon spaces of such sunny length 



The Garden of Europe 331 

and breadth, set round with, such exquisite architecture, 
that it makes you glad to be living in this 
world." 

We follow the surging throngs into the damp, dimly- 
lighted house of worship. The organ is bursting forth 
in sounds that shake the massive pillars which would 
defy an earthquake to rend. Countless lighted tapers 
are burning before the side chapels. See the festively - 
adorned high altar, which is supported by four marble 
columns. Below are the precious relics of St. Mark 
who is being especially honored to-day, the twenty- fifth 
of April. Cardinals and bishops in rich flowing robes 
are conducting prayers. Choir boys are chanting a 
special litany. There is a profusion of bronze and 
Oriental marble decoration throughout this Roman- 
esque basilica, which is built in the form of a Greek 
cross. 

The swarming crowd of devotees has made the air 
offensive and we pass out into the square. Come, let 
us sit at the base of one of the bronze flagstaffs to view 
the exterior of the cathedral. We no sooner settle our- 
selves than we are surrounded by lovely fluttering 
doves that perch upon our shoulders and laps. An old 
woman is selling corn, we will buy a small paper cornu- 
copia of the grain for two soldi. The pigeons are so 
tame they do not need to be invited to lunch. We 
hold the food receptacle and they peck at the kernels 
one by one while they coo their thanks. We have 
had such a pleasant time we almost forgot that we 
came here to view the exterior of the cathedral. Over 
the principal portal are the Four Horses in gilded 
bronze. They are veritable globe-trotters like our- 
selver, for we remember they traveled from Rome to 
Constantinople, then to Venice from whence Napoleon 
sent them to Paris to adorn the Place du Carrousel. 
It was during the early part of the nineteenth century 



S3 2 Glimpses Around the World 

that they were replaced in their present station of 
honor. These bronze steeds are the only members 
of the horse family that can be seen in the thorough- 
fares of Venice. 

A broad fence encloses the site of the fallen Cam- 
panile, where signs of reconstruction are visible. The 
three sides of the square are enclosed by vast marble 
structures, the ground floors of which are devoted to 
shops of Venetian ware. When we pause to admire 
the wonderful crystal creations or costly laces, the 
salesmen invite us to step inside, and then in true 
Oriental fashion coax us to buy souvenirs. At the 
southeast end of the Piazza rises the Clock Tower. It 
is just the even hour, we will step out into the square 
so as to have a good look at the two bronze giants 
mechanically striking the massive bells eleven times. 
The large dial shows us it is the hour before high noon. 
This clock forms the entrance to the Merceria, the 
narrow but lively business street. We follow this 
passageway as it winds and twists past shops, and 
churches, and over bridges, until we reach the Ponte 
di Rialto. It is a great surprise to us to find we can 
walk over the greater part of the city without the use of 
a gondola. And here we are standing on the historic 
Rialto which is flanked by shops of merchandise. In 
vain we scan the motley throng hoping to recognize 
therein some characters from the Shakespearean tra- 
gedy. No, that vendor of pottery opening his belated 
shutters for the day's bargaining is not our proud 
embittered Shylock — nor is the voluble dark-eyed 
loiterer there our clever witty Gratiano who will not 
be "reputed wise for saying nothing." There is an 
outer walk across the bridge from which we obtain a 
splendid general view of the "S "-shaped Grand 
Canal. 

This afternoon let us engage a gondola and make an 



The Garden of Europe 



333 



excursion to Murano, which lies about a mile and a half 
to the north of Venice. We leave the " Canalazzo ' ' and 
wind in and out of silent narrow byways to the outer 
sea. Then a brief stop at the Campo Santo, or Ceme- 
tery Island, where all Venetians are buried. Did not 
W. D. Howells tell us how Piero and Giovanna, his 
gondoliers, entertained him with a bit of solemn plea- 




PONTE DI RlALTO. 



santry? Pointing to the Island of the Dead, "it is a 
small place," says Piero, "but there is room enough 
for all Venice in it. " "It is true, " asserts Giovanna, 
" and here we poor folks become land-owners at last. " 
Murano, since the fourteenth century, has been the 
seat of the celebrated Venetian glass industry. 
Though many art treasures can be found in the old 



334 Glimpses Around the World 

churches here, we spend the time of our brief visit view- 
ing the large glass factories where the artisans are busy 
blowing the exquisitely-colored crystal into fairy-like 
shapes, which some one has likened unto the appealing 
qualities of a great poem. It is here the mosaicists are 
fitting together the variously-colored little cubes of 
glass which, when completed, often defy the eye of the 
unsophisticated as the work of paint and brush. Watch 
this workman ! On the table before him there are sec- 
tional boxes of the tiny cubes. With a dainty pincer- 
like instrument he deftly arranges these bits of mosaic 
on a metal picture-frame, the surface of which has been 
previously prepared with glue. Under our very eyes a 
spray of pink rosebuds have grown upon a sky-blue 
back-ground. There are islands beyond Murano whose 
occupants devote their time to the making of marvelous 
laces, but we shall now return to the Goddess city, 
and there watch some of the sallow-faced, red-eyed, 
emaciated-looking women who sit with cushions upon 
their laps, weaving the celebrated Venetian point lace 
which is so exquisitely delicate" it hardly seems the 
handiwork of a human being. Hands that receive an 
average of twenty cents per day, but, as in the carpet 
factory in India, we find the prices in the exhibition 
department excessive. 

We pay a brief visit to the Accademia di Belle 
Arti to admire the works of Bellini, the father of Vene- 
tian art, and to note the range of Titian's skill, which 
entitles him to one of the first places among the painters 
of all times. In fact very few can compare with him 
in magnificence of conception, and in the embodiment 
of everything lofty and dignified. "Light, color, air, 
space; those are the elemental conditions of Venetian 
art, of those the painters weaved the ideal world for 
beautiful and proud humanity. ' ' We will particularly 
notice the "Assumption of the Virgin," which is recog- 



The Garden of Europe 335 

nized as Titian's greatest picture. The magnificent 
coloring is its first attraction. See the blissful look 
on the face of the mother, and the wonderful, fore- 
shortened figure of the Heavenly Father, who, with 
the angels, comes to meet the Virgin, while below are 
the Apostles. Every figure is taking part in the 
scene, every face reflects the glory of the eternal. It 
would seem as if here the nature-taught soul of the 
painter had received inspiration from a power beyond 
even Nature herself and had brought every device both 
of coloring and of skill to produce this magic effect, 
which Mrs. Jameson says, is like music. In the church 
of the Frari, for which this masterpiece was painted, 
we view the grave of Titian who died at the age of 
ninety-nine years. 

Once more in the Piazza San Marco, we visit another 
prominent specimen of Venetian art ; the Palace of the 
Doges, which was founded by the first Duke about the 
early part of the ninth century, not merely as the resi- 
dence of the Chief of the state, but also the place where 
all the councils of state were held. We offer our words 
of praise to the artistic Paul Veronese and Tintoretto, 
a favorite of Ruskin, for their wonderful frescos de- 
picting the history of the Venetians. With an attend- 
ing guide we enter the dungeon prisons which Dickens 
has described so graphically: 

' T descended from the cheerful day in two ranges, one 
below another, of dismal, awful, horrible stone cells. 
They were quite dark. Each had a loop hole in its 
massive walls, where in the old time every day a torch 
was placed to light the prisoners within for a half an 
hour. The captives, by the glimmering of the brief rays 
had cut and scratched inscriptions in these blackened 
vaults. I saw them, for their labor with the rusty 
nail's point had outlived their agony and them, through 
many generations." 



336 Glimpses Around the World 

Here is the passage-way of lamentation formerly 
used by prisoners sentenced to a dungeon's existence: 

I stood in Venice on the Bridge of Sighs, 

A palace and a prison on each hand : 
I saw from out the wave her structures rise 

As from the stroke of the enchanter's wand! 
A thousand years their cloudy wings expand 

Around me, and a dying glory smiles 
O'er the far times, when many a subject land 

Looked to the winged Lion's marble piles, 
Where Venice sat in state, throned on her hundred isles! 

Lord Byron. 

What is the cause of the crowd in front of the cathe- 
dral? We will make our way into the church, which 
to-day, as we view it, seems unequaled in the richness 
of its decoration. An elaborate casket near the altar 
where priests are conducting services reveals to us a 
funeral service. Some dozen elderly women in white 
robes, carrying immense lighted tapers, are wailing as 
they follow the bier out of the church to the water's 
edge. Our eyes are among those that are gazing at the 
richly-adorned black and gold gondola-hearse, which, 
carrying the lifeless body, glides slowly toward the 
Cemetery Island. Except for the gondola which ac- 
commodates the priest, none follow in this curious 
funeral cortege. The departed one was a philan- 
thropic old lady who is survived by no immediate mem- 
bers of her family. The white-robed women taper- 
bearers we saw in the church were paid to mourn. 

Shall we board an omnibus steamer that plies to Lido, 
the favorite Venetian pleasure resort? It is true that 
these clumsy, puffy launches detract from the serenity 
and picturesque charm of the Grand Canal, but they 
take the place of trams for rapid, economical transpor- 
tation. We must enjoy this evening under the guid- 
ance of our faithful gondolier who deftly manipulates 
our conveyance. " The Grand Canal is the true golden 
book in which all the Venetian nobility have signed its 



The Garden of Europe 337 

names upon the monumental facades. ' ' We ride 
through canals and pass houses that speak of the elo- 
quence of literary association, and recall the favored 
haunts of well-known earlier travelers as we bid good- 
night to the most unique city in the world; the tear- 
stained Venus whose immortality is coquetry. 

With the rising sun our gondolier swiftly rows us 
to the station, and we speed on to Milan. The second- 
class railway carriages are comfortable. In the win- 
dow of one compartment we notice a placard marked 
Signoria. Though the train is over-crowded, and 
men must stand in the side aisles, they are not per- 
mitted to occupy the empty seats of the exclusive sec- 
tion if a single dame is found traveling therein. Our 
train halts at Verona, but we have no time to visit the 
legendary scenes associated with that tale of fierce 
hatreds and fatal loves of Romeo and Juliet, which 
has become familiar to us through the matchless delin- 
eation of the Shakespearean drama. From the rail- 
way carriage window we can see glorious green fields 
and blossoming fruit trees which herald the com- 
ing summer, while beyond lie frigid mountain 
peaks. 

It is noon when we reach the busy capital of Lom- 
bardy, for Milano breathes an enterprising atmosphere 
unlike other Italian cities. We find the metropolis 
is built in a circle, and the cathedral, the third largest 
church in Europe, occupies the central point, the 
Piazza del Duomo. Nowhere has the definition, 
"Art is man's imitation of God's work," seemed more 
apropos than now as we gaze upon the white marble 
Gothic- Romanesque structure which is entirely covered 
with statues and needle-like spires that through the 
ages have become a soft grayish color. While we view 
the cathedral, which the Milanese consider to be the 
eighth wonder of the world, we imagine we are looking 



338 Glimpses Around the World 

through a magnifying glass at a perfected example of 
Jack Frost 's window-pane tracery. 

Ascending the marble steps we enter the imposing 
edifice which is built in the form of a crucifix. The 
wide expanse of nave and transept, the colossal pillars, 
the almost fathomless arched ceiling, and the mellow 
light which penetrates through the beautiful stained 




Milaxo's Duomo. 



glass windows, impress us with veneration. We mount 
the staircase which leads to the roof of the cathedral, 
whence we catch our first panoramic glimpse of the 
Alpine range. The splintered ice-crags of Monte Rosa, 
the most conspicuous snow-capped peak, are said to 
have suggested to the architect the design of these 
airy marble pinnacle. 



The Garden of Europe 339 

Again in the square, we pass the equestrian statue 
of Victor Emanuel II and enter the Gatleria, the most 
spacious arcade in Europe, which is said to have 
cost eight million lire. It is lined with shops of costly 
merchandise, of which silk accessories seem to be a 
specialty. The gallery leads us into the Piazza delta 
Scala, the site of a Carrara marble monument erected 
to him to whom the perfection of art owes more than 
to any other man. The heroic size statue of Leonardo 
da Vinci, standing on a lofty pedestal is surrounded 
by figures representing four of his well-known 
pupils. 

There are convenient electric trams traversing the 
city. We will step aboard one and land near the 
"Cenocolo Vinciano, " the now T forsaken refectory 
or dining hall of the monastery of St. Maria delta 
Grazie. It is here that we find the mutilated fresco 
of the Last Supper, perhaps the most perfectly exe- 
cuted picture in the world. In several of the Italian 
art galleries w 7 e have seen various interpretations of 
Christ and the Twelve Apostles seated at a table, 
but all are failures when compared to the da Vinci 
fresco which vividly represents the moment of action 
when Christ made his startling announcement. Dur- 
ing the twenty months in which the artist labored 
over this fresco, the convent prior became irritable 
and complaining. We are told that Leonardo, in 
vengeance, used the facial expression of the father 
of the monastery as a model for his head of Judas. 
Please notice the marvelous expression of the hands. 
When we recall how Napoleon's soldiers once misused 
this building as stables we readily understand the 
cause of the general defacement; the blurred faces 
and marred figures. 

A musical evening spent in the midst of the gay 
metropolis convinces us that we have completed the 



340 Glimpses Around the World 

most -unique part of our tour. Though the language 
may differ from our mother-tongue, the ways and 
means of livelihood on the European continent are 
comparatively similar to our own. Traveling has 
increased our ability to admire everything of beauty. 
Perhaps we have witnessed similar loveliness, but 
Nature, in whatever attire she may appear, always 
enthuses us with renewed pleasures. With this alert 
spirit of freshness, for which we are forever thank- 
ful to our all- wise Creator, let us continue our 
tour. 

We have decided to take the morning train to 
Switzerland, and engage a cabman to drive us to the 
station. To our dismay, when we dismount from our 
conveyance we find Milano is equipped with more 
than one railroad terminus, and we have been landed 
at the wrong one. Perhaps if we engage another cab, 
and drive as fast as possible, we may yet catch the 
right train. We doubt if any of the famous rides of 
tradition could have been more exciting than our 
actual race through the streets of the busy city of 
Milan. We pay our coachman a generous fee and, 
unheedful of armed station guards, ticket agents, 
and railroad officials, we rush through the gates and 
jump aboard just as our train glides away. We 
leave behind us a corps of angry-looking men, some 
dazed, others gesticulating and shouting as if greatly 
infuriated by our actions. When we catch our breath 
and find we are actually steaming on and out of Italy, 
we realize we have purchased no railway tickets. 
Perhaps the conductor will put us off the train at the 
next station, perhaps we shall be taken into custody 
for having committed such an unpardonable offense, 
or perhaps we shall be heavily fined. While these 
thoughts pass through our minds a kindly-faced 
Englishman, who reminds us of the Good Samaritan 



The Garden of Europe 341 

we met in Singapore, politely asks if he may be of 
service. He speaks Italian fluently and offers to ex- 
change French currency, which he says will be accept- 
able as payment to the conductor. Our minds are 
relieved and our faces expressive of our heartfelt 
thanks when our English acquaintance has extricated 
us from our predicament with satisfaction to all con- 
cerned. 

We now have time to notice that this railway 
carriage is built with a central aisle similar to our 
Pullman coaches. The various notices about this 
Swiss train are printed in French, Italian and Ger- 
man. The balmy Italian atmosphere is changing to 
a chilling temperature which is discharged from dis- 
tant frigid mountain peaks. Our train halts at Isell; 
it is not necessary to make a declaration to the customs 
officials for we have no tobacco nor liquor which are 
the dutiable goods in question. This is the southern 
entrance to the Simplon Tunnel, which was com- 
pleted some three years ago at a cost of fifteen million 
seven hundred thousand dollars. From the window 
of our coach we can see the electric engine which, since 
June the first, 1906, carries the trains through the 
twelve and a quarter mile tunnel, which the skilful 
engineers bored at a depth of from five thousand to 
six thousand feet below the surface of the mountain. 
Lamps are lighted in the train compartments. As 
we enter the dingy hole we look at our watches, and 
when we reach the northern entrance at Brigue we 
find it has taken our train just twenty-seven minutes 
and fifty-six seconds to penetrate the longest railway 
tunnel in the world. There are two parallel tubes 
or passages, each measuring sixteen and a half feet in 
width. Being separated by a distance of sixty-five 
and a half feet, each passage is equipped with a single 
track which permits of travel in both directions with- 



342 Glimpses Around the World 

out fear of a collision. During the six years construc- 
tion of the Simplon Tunnel, the working force is said 
to have numbered one thousand men. They were 
divided into three shifts of eight hours per day, so 
that labor was carried on continually during both 
day and night. 



CHAPTER XII 

The European Play-Ground 

See, from the ashes of Helvetia's pile, 
The whitened skull of old Servetus smile. 

Holmes. 

WE are now traveling through the Helvetian Re- 
public, as Switzerland is sometimes called. 
We find our train winding in and out and 
around the massive sculpture which Nature has so 
wonderfully modeled. Following the course of the 
River Rhone, we pass the picturesque old town of 
St. Maurice, then the favorite resort of Montreux 
overlooking the lovely Lake Geneva. Close to the 
shore we see the historical Castle of Chillon. Is this 
lovely spot the scene of Lord Byron's Prisoner of 
Chillon? 

By evening we reach Geneva — Geneva that so jeal- 
ously embraced the dawning Reformation by extend- 
ing favors to the theological refugee, John Calvin. 
Geneve, as the French pronounce it, is one of the 
cleanest cities we have visited on our entire trip. 
Leaving the station let us walk through the broad 
Rue du Mont Blanc, where French is mostly spoken. 
At the end of the thoroughfare we find the bridge or 
Quai du Mont Blanc. Why does the name Mont 
Blanc figure so conspicuously in this city? Look up 
and across the bridge, the day is clear, and we can 
distinguish a white outline against the blue heavens. 
Is it a cloud? No, this is none other than the highest 
of Alpine peaks; Mount Blanc, which rises 15,782 
feet above the level of the sea. 

(343) 



344 Glimpses Around the World 

Mt. Blanc is the monarch of mountains; 

They crowned him long ago, 
On a throne of rocks in a robe of clouds, 

With a diadem of snow. 

Lord Byron. 

As we shall not be able to visit Chamonix and don 
hobnailed shoes, this is the best glimpse we shall gain 
of the haughtiest member of the Alp family. Cross- 
ing the quai we notice a small wooded island. It is 
known as the Island of Rousseau, and is the site of a 
bronze statue of the eminent philosopher, Jean Jacques. 
Rousseau, who was born in Geneva. 

A visit to several watch and clock establishments 
which lie along the river banks convinces us that the 
progression of this city and its choice as a favorite 
American haunt is due to the fact that its industry is 
chiefly on time. We have always been anxious to 
visit a musical mechanical shop and here is our chance. 
We no sooner enter the display and salesroom of one 
well-known concern than an affable gentleman step- 
ping forward addresses us in English. We wonder 
how he recognizes our nationality, though of course 
we are carrying the conventional red Baedeker. " Do 
you feel tired? Please sit in this prettily-carved 
chair. " As we do so the lifeless wooden household 
article is heard to send forth strains from Mendels- 
sohn's Wedding March. Surely this unique contri- 
vance might be compared to the ancient musical 
marble statue at Thebes, or perhaps to the wooden 
bambino which our Roman acquaintances told us 
shivered in the cold. See that pretty canary bird in 
its cage! What method of voice culture does this 
feathered vertebrate apply that it doesn't breathe 
though it sings beautifully? One of the gentlemen in 
our party removing the covering from his head, places 
it upon a carved hat-rack. As he does so we hear 
the familiar air "Home, Sweet Home." In the china 



The European Play-Ground 345 

department, there are beer-steins and plates which as 
one raises them send forth sweet musical tones from 
familiar operas. 

We have heard that Continental sleeping-car accom- 
modations are not a luxury, so we shall spend the 
night in Geneva. We find time to visit the old Rom- 
anesque cathedral which contains among its relics 
John Calvin's chair. 

Purchasing a generous supply of delicious milk- 
chocolate, we ride all day past snow-capped moun- 
tain peaks, cool, damp mountain hollows, and laby- 
rinths of green valleys, and land at the foot of the 
Rigi heights in the city of Lucerne. Here, though 
still in the land of milk and honey, German, instead 
of French, is the prevailing language spoken by these 
Teutonic descendants. We have already formed the 
most pleasing impression of Switzerland and its people, 
who are appreciative of higher education, and ener- 
getic and sanitary in their mode of living. 

No sooner is the name of Lucerne mentioned than 
we associate with it the famous lion sculptured by 
Bertel Thorwaldsen in memory of the Swiss guards. 
Lucerne stands on both banks of the emerald River 
Reuss. Owing to the annual tourists' pilgrimage the 
city of the Lion is equipped with good hotels. We 
notice considerable change in the temperature and, as 
the steam-heating plant does not yield sufficient 
warmth for our comfort, we seek quarters which are 
supplied with stoves. A massive, colored tile piece of 
furniture which reaches from the floor nearly to the 
ceiling is pointed out as the sought-for heater. " Bitte 
Kellner, machen sie ein bischen feuer. ' ' Then we watch 
the porter as he brings a few dried twigs and a dozen 
brickettes of pressed powdered charcoal. Opening a 
tiny door in the corridor which connects with the 
stove in our room he inserts the inflammables. We 



346 Glimpses Around the World 

try to imagine the fire is comforting, but retire shiver- 
ing, and longing for a breath of tropical heat, such as 
we have left behind. 

At daybreak our room is still chilly. We make our 
way to the Speise Zimmer. Few guests are visible, 
though it is the usual breakfast hour. Our waiter 
seems surprised that we, too, do not partake of coffee 
in the privacy of our rooms. Rolls, butter and strained 
honey are on the table, and here, comes the waiter 
carrying two steaming pitchers. " Guten M or gen, 
Trinken die Herschaften kaffe?" This provincial Ger- 
man accent is unfamiliar to us and during our 
silence, while we are pondering over the meaning of 
the phrase, the alert little waiter takes possession of 
our cups, pouring from the two pitchers at the same 
time hot milk and coffee. Now, when we are ready 
to start sight-seeing, we find our sleeping rooms are 
comfortably warmed by the fire which was lighted 
last evening. 

We make our way past shops containing good speci- 
mens of wood-carving. There are bears from the 
capital city of Berne, which we remember having 
passed through on the train, and there are reproduc- 
tions of the Dane's masterpiece, which we are about 
to view. We penetrate a secluded grove. Here on 
the side of a massive sandstone rock lies the Dying 
Lion. 

Do notice the expression of anguish caused by the 
incision of the broken lance, which has pierced the 
animal's side. With his last bit of strength the noble 
beast tries to protect the Bourbon lily shield, just as 
history tells us the Swiss guards heroically died try- 
ing to protect the palace during the siege at the Tui- 
leries, in 1792. A symbolic representation of this 
dramatic episode might easily have led an inferior 
artist into extravagance and vulgarity but, to the 



The European Play-Ground 



347 



simple manly genius of Thorwaldsen, the son of a poor 
Icelandic wood-carver of Denmark, the subject was 
well suited. An inscription cut in the stone records 
the names of the officers of the Swiss guard. Beneath 
the roughly-hewn mountain side is a small sheet of 
water which, with the clearness of a mirror, reflects 
the outline of the mighty, suffering Lion. We saunter 




The Lion of Lucerne. 



about the picturesque town which borders on the Lake 
of Lucerne. Yonder rises the mighty Rigi range, 
which later in the season is a favorite tourists' resort. 
En route to Germany our train passes through 
Zurich, the most nourishing of Swiss manufacturing 
centers. We notice the city is picturesquely built 
upon the banks of the pale-green lake, while the snow- 



348 Glimpses Around the World 

crowned Alps rise in the background. The northern- 
most and nearest peak is the lovely Uetliberg, which 
can be ascended from Zurich by railway, though here, 
as on the Rigi, the locomotive is placed behind the 
train. We have passed the Swiss borderland and 
reach Munich by evening. 



CHAPTER XIII 

The Empire of Four K's 

We Germans fear God, but nothing else in the world. 

Prince Bismarck. 

MUNICH, as we learned at school, but now Mun- 
chen, for we are in Germany, is the capital of 
Bavaria. The town was built upon the site of 
an ancient monastery and hence acquired its name. 
Art and beer have always been associated in our minds 
with Munchen. (That's right, by drawing the lips to- 
gether to form a small circle we are actually able to 
pronounce " U " as the Germans do.) We shall partake 
of both attractions on the morrow. Now for a night's 
rest between feather beds, for not only do the Germans 
sleep upon a downy couch, but their covering consists 
of a large-sized pillow, which we find is always in the 
wrong corner of the bed. 

After a breakfast of rolls and coffee we consult our 
guide and find it will be impossible to do justice to 
the Pinakothek, Glyptothek and Bibliothek unless we 
become students. Time does not permit us this privi- 
lege, so we shall but peep into the Alte Pinakothek, 
or old picture gallery, a fine Renaissance edifice which 
was erected in 1836 for the reception of the extensive 
collection of old masterpieces gathered together by 
Elector Karl Theodore. It is said to contain the 
most complete collection of works by old German 
artists that can be found anywhere. There are also 
some good Italian pictures. Pretentious art students 
are busy copying the Raphael canvases, and artists' 

(349) 



6y 



Glimpses Around the World 



easels are grouped around the paintings by Titian. 
There are rooms devoted to the Dutch and Flemish 
schools. Albert Diirer's famous "Four Apostles," 
which the artist painted as a memorial to himself to 
be placed in Nuremberg, was brought to this Pinako- 
thek by the Elector of Bavaria. Here we are per- 
mitted to view the celebrated subject of "Tempera- 
ments. ' ' Do you agree with the critics who say, 
"John reveals the type of the melancholy, Peter of the 
phlegmatic, Paul of the choleric, and Mark of the 
sanguine?" The Glyptothek, or repository of sculp- 
ture, is built in imitation of the Greek architecture, 
and contains an extensive collection of antique sculp- 
ture as well as work done by Canova and Thorwaldsen. 
Passing the imposing General Post Office and the 
Royal Mint, we reach the Hofbrauhaus in the Pratzl. 
Let us make our way to the cool basement, and fol- 
low the example of the Emperor, who is said to lunch 
here often. We will rinse out one of the earthen- 
ware mugs whose pewter covers are adorned with the 
royal coat-of-arms. Now we must stand in line and 
wait our chance to fill the liter receptacle from the 
faucet of the huge keg. Even though we profess to 
be teetotalers at home let us taste this foaming malt 
beverage, brewed after the famous Degeunberg receipt, 
which has been a state secret during the past three 
hundred years. On benches around old wooden 
tables we sit, and between sips of the ancient royal 
brew we munch thirst-giving pretzels, or schwartz- 
brod and wurst sandwiches which we have purchased 
from the vender. It's a pleasure to see all classes of 
natives relish their food and drink. How do the 
starved, emaciated countenances of the Orientalists 
compare with these epicureans? Though the natives 
stow away a generous quantity of beer, it is scarcely 
ever possible to find an intoxicated German. 



The Empire of Four K's 351 

To-night, at the Hof -National Theater, a company 
of artists will present Das Rheingold, from Wagner's 
Die Nibelungen Ring. We cannot miss such an 
opportunity and so making our way to the box office 
we purchase good seats at eight marks, two dollars, a 
piece. It is already late afternoon, we plan to return 
to the hotel to dress for dinner and the opera, when 
by mere chance, one of our party enquires the hour of 
the opening of the performance. We learn with sur- 
prise that the overture begins promptly at a quarter 
past six o'clock, and all who are not in their seats at 
that time must remain outside until the introduction 
to the opera is completed. This fact convinces us 
of the genuine love and appreciation of music of the 
Germans. We heartily approve of their method when 
we recall the many unpleasant interruptions belated 
opera-goers at home cause the artists as well as the 
rest of the audience. We determine to miss no part 
of this evening's treat and after dressing go direct to 
the theater without our meal. We need not feel 
abused, for it is customary in Germany to dine about 
half past nine o'clock, after the performance. No 
one is permitted to enter the auditorium with wraps 
or hats. These must be checked in the foyer. 

The interior decoration of Munich's Royal Opera 
House is elegant. We glance up at the royal box, 
which occupies the center of the first tier of boxes, 
just in time to see the crown-prince and princess seat 
themselves under the gold-fringed canopy. The 
orchestral leader wields his baton and immediately 
there is silence. We hear the booming ground-tone 
of a mighty river; nature-music of rivers and rain- 
bow, fire and forest. It becomes plainer and clearer, 
and when the curtain goes up we see what we have 
heard. Behold, here is the depth of the Rhine with 
three mermaids sporting and singing while they guard 



35 2 Glimpses Around the World 

the "Rheingold" which we see glimmering on a rock. 
Have you wondered as to the purpose of the clumsy 
semi-circular dome that rises about a foot above the 
level of the stage, just in front of the leader of the 
orchestra? It screens the aperture where the promp- 
ter is concealed. Ah ! here, stealing along the slippery 
river-rock, comes the ugly dwarf Alberich. When he 
makes love to the Nymphs, they mock him. Alberich 
in revenge grasps the Rheingold. Suddenly the stage 
becomes dark and the scene changes to an open district 
on the mountain heights. Yonder lies the Walhalla, 
the lovely palace which the giants have built. We 
are introduced to Wotan, the god of gods, and his 
consort Fricka. The third scene transports us to a 
gruesome mine where by cunning contrivance the thief 
of the Rheingold is captured. In the fourth scene 
the long roll of thundering music dies away, and we 
hear the magnificent march across the rainbow bridge 
to Walhalla: 

Rheingold! Pure Gold! 

O would that thy light 

Waved in the waters below! 

Unfailing faith 

Is found in the deep 

While above, in delight 

Faintness and falsehood abide ! ' 

"Of human interest there is none, but the super- 
natural machinery is complete. ' ' We have thor- 
oughly enjoyed the freshness and out-of-door feeling 
of this allegory, for such is our interpretation of this 
musical drama. Das Rheingold is a fitting prologue, 
and we regret being unable to enjoy Die Walkure, 
Siegfried and Die Gotterddmmerung, which complete 
Wagner's colossal masterpiece known as the "Ring 
of the Nibelung. " It is true we have not "done" 
Miinchen, but we carry away with us a picture of an 
enterprising city which is saturated with an artistic 



The Empire of Four K's 



153 



atmosphere. Did not Millet say? "All art is a lan- 
guage, and language is the expression of our thoughts. ' ' 
The morning train carries us on to Nuremberg, 
now the busiest manufacturing city in Bavaria. How 
many times we have noticed toys, leather and metal 
wares labeled Nuremberg. The quaint mediaeval 
town is their birthplace. The facts as to the found- 
ing of the city are lost in the dim shadows of tradi- 
tion. Indeed the very name of Nuremberg seems 
hidden in clouds of obscurity, though some one has 
wittily suggested, Nur-ein-burg (only a castle) as a 
plausible derivation. Let us pursue the poetical 
guidance of our beloved Longfellow: 

In the valley of the Pegnitz, where across broad meadow-lands 
Rise the blue Franconian mountains, 
Nuremberg, the ancient, stands. 

Quaint old town of toil and traffic, quaint old town of art and song. 
Memories haunt thy pointed gables, like the rooks that round them 
throng : 

After adjusting ourselves in a comfortable hotel near 
the bahnhof, or station, we enter the walled city by the 
Frauen Thor. We are immediately struck by the irreg- 
ular height, breadth and style of the red- tiled houses of 
the Middle Ages that line the streets. Here are high- 
peaked gables, carved doors, eaves, balconies and oriel 
windows that are lavish in their ornamentation. 

Here, where Art was still religion, with a simple, reverent heart, 

Lived and labored Albrecht Diirer, the Evangelist of Art, 

Hence, in silence and in sorrow, toiling still with busy hand, 

Like an emigrant he wandered, seeking for the better land, 

Emigravit is the inscription on the tombstone where he lies; 

Dead he is not, but departed, — for the artist never dies. 

Here Hans Sachs, the cobbler poet, laureate of the gentle craft, 

Wisest of the Twelve Wise Masters, in huge folios sang and laughed. 

But his house is now an ale-house, with a nicely-sanded floor, 

And a garland in the window, and his face above the door; 

Painted by some humble artist as in Adam Puschman's song 

As the old man gray and dove-like, with his great beard white and long. 

And at night the swart mechanic comes to drown his cark and care, 

Quaffing ale from pewter tankards, in the master's antique chair 

Not thy Councils, not thy Kaisers, win for thee the world's regard; 

But thy painter, Albrecht Diirer and Hans Sachs thy cobbler bard. 



354 Glimpses Around the World 

Let us now turn to the highest eminence of the 
town, where the ancient fortress, or castle, stands. 
Crossing the moat by a wooden bridge we reach the 
towers of the Castle Rock. We will mount the 
Luginsland Tower which was built in the fourteenth 
century. It is now used as a museum and the curi- 
osities consist chiefly of instruments of torture, among 




Albrecht Durer's House. 

them is the horrible " Eiserne Jungfrau, " as the name 
implies, the iron statue of a woman standing about 
eight feet in height. The custodian who serves us as 
guide, unlocks the doors at the front of the statue, 
and we see that though the interior is hollowed into 
the outline of a human form, it is lined with sharp 
spikes. Political criminals were formerly placed in 
here, and the shutting of the spike-lined iron doors 



The Empire of Four K's 



355 



meant a most agonizing death. It was in this tower 
that the robber-knight Ekkelein von Gailingen was 
imprisoned, he who begged as a last request before 
being put to death to feel himself upon the back of 
his favorite 
horse. The 
custodian tells 
us with Ger- 
manf ervor how 
the request was 
granted, how 
the faithful 
animal, con- 
scious of his 
master's pres- 
ence, deter- 
mined to save 
his life, and be- 
fore the burgh- 
ers could stay 
them, man and 
horse leaped 
over the para- 
pet, one hun- 
dred feet be- 
low. This 
was not their 
destruction, 
as might be 
supposed, for 
Ekkelein and 




ElSERNE JUNGFRAU. 



his brave steed struggled out of the moat and galloped 
away to the castle of Gailungen. We feel that we 
have had sufficient value for the thirty pfennig, about 
seven cents, which we paid as an entrance fee, and 
continue our way towards the castle 



Here, guarding 



- 3 $6 Glimpses Around the World 

the gate as a sentinel, stands the huge tower known 
as Vestner Thurm, the only round Gothic tower of 
the Burg. Nearby is the Tiefer Brunnen, or deep 
well, which is said to have been hewn from solid rock 




Vestner Thurm. 



during some thirty years of labor. The well is three 
hundred and thirty-five feet deep, and as we look 
down into the almost bottomless hole, an attendant 
pours a cup of water into the blackness. Six seconds 



The Empire of Four K's 



00 



7 



elapse before the bit of aqua splashes into the water 
beneath. 

In the courtyard of the castle, bound with many an iron band. 
Stands the mighty linden, planted by Queen Cunigunde's hand. 

Nuremberg residents tell us that some seven hun- 
dred years ago King Henry, while in pursuit of a deer, 
would have fallen headlong over a precipice had not a 
lime branch at which he grasped, stopped and saved 
him. The king, recognizing the protection of the 
Superior Power, brought a twig of the lime tree to his 
wife, Queen Cunigunde, who planted it here, where 
now its spreading branches shelter the courtyard. 
Though much of the castle has been rebuilt, we find 
St. Margaret's Chapel, erected in Romanesque style, 
especially well preserved. In the Kaiser kapelle four 
white marble columns support the vaulting. Perhaps 
you notice one of these columns is built in two pieces. 
It has been said that when the " Burg ' ' was being built, 
Satan longed to possess the soul of the chaplain of 
the castle, and wagered he could bring four marble 
pillars from Milan before the priest could read the 
mass. Of course the Devil had the columns close at 
hand, but the holy father had a glib tongue and 
quickly said "Amen." This infuriated the evil one, 
and in his rage he flung down the pillar, and so 
we now find it, broken and bound together with a 
massive ring. 

Again in the town we pause before St. Lawrence's 
Cathedral with its graceful twin towers and grand 
wheel window — " a perfect symphony of form and 
color. ' ' Walking along the Konig Strasse, our 
attention is attracted to the many souvenir shops. 
See the silvery funnels marked, Nuremberger Trich- 
ter. They are suggestive of the absurdity of Hars- 
dorfer's Nuremburg Funnel, for pouring into the head 



358 



Glimpses Around the World 



of a student the art of German poetry and rhyme 
without the aid of the Latin tongue. 

We must not leave " the jewel casket of the German 
Empire ' ' without tasting the far-famed and delicious 
honey nut-cake known as Lebkuchen. 




NUREMBERGER TRICHTER. 



We shall stop in Heidelberg just long enough to 
catch a glimpse of the loveliest ruined castle in Ger- 
many. At the Kornmarket station we find a cable 



The Empire of Four K's 



359 



railway by which we rapidly ascend the wooded pro- 
jection of the Konigstuhl.. Here are the picturesque 
remains of the Schloss founded in the thirteenth 
cetury, upon which many architects have labored 
during the succeeding years. Now its ruined walls 
speak of past glories, and of sieges that busy us with 
historical reminiscences. From the lovely terrace we 
look out over the valley of the Neckar and gain a bird 's- 




Heidelberg's Schloss. 

eye view of the oldest university town in Germany. 
Admiringly we linger near the arched gateway and 
facade and gaze upon yonder ivy-covered tower which 
was ruined by the French. This Alhambra of Ger- 
many is majestic. 

We shall visit the cellar to view the celebrated 
Tun, or monster wine cask, which is said to have 



360 Glimpses Around the World 

held forty-nine thousand gallons of wine. Perhaps 
you notice the queer wooden statue of a dwarf who 
stands as guard. This is a likeness of Perkeo, the 
court- jester of Elector Charles Philip, who, though 
small and deformed in stature, must indeed have been 
mighty. We are told he liked the Tun plus its con- 
tents better than anything else in the world, so it was 
agreed that if he would drink all the wine, the cask 
should he his. For fifteen years Perkeo lived in this 
cellar. At the end of that time he had consumed 
every drop of his favorite beverage. He had fulfilled 
■his mission, and leaving a request to be buried beside 
his treasured receptacle, he died a faithful follower of 
Bacchus. 

There is music in the nearby gardens. While we 
stroll among the wooded-paths we meet several Uni- 
versity students. These young men are always recog- 
nizable, for they wear colored caps; some are blue, 
others red, while the white ones belong to colleagues 
of noble birth. See the ugly scars about their faces. 
Ofttimes huge strips of court-plaster disfigure their 
countenances, yet of this they seem very proud. We 
wonder why this barbaric sport of dueling is permitted 
in a so-called civilized country. 

Again we are traveling in second-class railway 
carriages which we find comfortable for short day 
trips. Northern Germany is calling us, yet we feel we 
must tarry along the way. Surely we must pay 
homage to the birthplace of Germany's greatest poet. 
Frankfort-on-the-Main, or ford of the Franks, was so 
named by Charlemagne who forded the Main when he 
attacked the Saxons. The city is divided into Neu- 
stadt and Alstadt. The former is one of the leading 
financial centers of the German Empire. It is beau- 
tifully equipped with literary, scientific and artistic 
institutions, and possesses wide thoroughfares lined 



The Empire of Four K's 361 

with handsome buildings, but this is not the Frank- 
fort we wish to glance at, so let us make our way to 
the dingy narrow lanes. But few of the quaint houses 
of the famous Juden Gasse are still standing. Here 
occurred the rise of the famous Rothschild family. Do 
look at Hirschgraben Strasse, number twenty-three. 
It is the house in which Johann Wolfgang Goethe was 
born. Some fifty years ago this house became the 
common property of the German people. Having 
been put as nearly as possible into the condition in 
which it was during Goethe's youth, it now serves as a 
personal museum. One old house is marked with a 
slab on which we read the name of Luther. That 
reminds us of Eisenach ; so let us travel on to the 
romantically-situated village which claims John 
Sebastian Bach as its son. 

Approaching the hotel just opposite the station, we 
are greeted by a retinue of servants. We have heard 
that the Emperor is expected here on a hunting tour. 
Surely these mechanically-bowing men cannot have 
mistaken us for the royal party. Single file they 
follow us to our rooms, and there await trinkgeld 
just as the Orientalists do "backshish." We are 
supplied with a goodly number of ten and twenty 
pfennig coins, and a distribution of these causes the 
traeger to disperse. 

On the lovely wooded height overlooking the village 
is Wartburg. It was here that Martin Luther was 
imprisoned after his return from the Diet of Worms, 
and here he translated the Bible. We decide to 
ascend the height on foot. Half way up, we see the 
house in which Wagner once lived. The air is balmy 
and the nodding, blossoming wild flowers lead us to 
the lovely Drachen- schlucht. During the past cen- 
turies the huge moss covered rocks have cracked and 
formed a gorge, which is just wide enough for one 



362 Glimpses Around the World 

person to pass through. We have not time to ramble 
and yet we can hear the trickling mountain streams 
calling to us a welcome. The fragrance of verdant 
foliage intoxicates us. Are we suffering the fate of 
Tannhaiiser? We must tear ourselves away from 
Nature's bond of sorcery, for the sun is already high. 
Architecturally the " Hofburg ' ' is the finest part of 
the Wartburg, but we find the Luther Room the most 
interesting. It was here "Junker George," as Luther 
was known in disguise, was kept in hiding. On the. 
wall near the Reformer's table is a huge ink spot. 
The custodian tells us, that one day while the Biblical 
translator was at work he saw the Devil making 
grimaces at him. Luther flung his ink pot, and Satan, 
dodging, let the black fluid spurt over the wall. 

The village is arrayed in holiday attire, and every 
smiling pair of blue eyes we meet seems to say, " You 
had better stay, der Kaiser ~kommt. " Ah! but we are 
due in Dresden. 

Our route is via Leipzig, let us halt long enough to 
catch a glimpse of the widely famed, pleasant old 
town. We find the house in which Richard Wagner 
was born. We must also take time to peep into the 
old Auerbach Keller, one of Goethe's haunts. The 
walls are adorned with dingy frescos of familiar 
scenes from Faust, and one of the attending Kellner 
shows us a cask on which Dr. Johannes Faustus, he 
who sold his soul to Satan, used to ride. 

Hurrying back to the bahnhof we catch the train 
which, in two and a half hours, lands us in Dres- 
den. This Florence of Germany, the capital of the 
Kingdom of Saxony, is seated in the richly-culti- 
vated valley of the curving River Elbe. The domes 
and spires, as we enter the city, suggest an Italian 
landscape. Dresden boasts of a large colony of 
American and English residents, and offers home- 



The Empire of Four K's 3 6 3 

like inducements to its guests. Walking down Prager 
Strasse we pass American shoe shops and novelty 
bazaars conducted by English-speaking shopkeepers. 
Just look into the window of this pharmacy. A 
sign reads, " Delicious Christmas Plum Pudding direct 
from England. " It is now May, and we wonder if 
the salesman is taking orders for next season's pro- 
duction, or whether the toothsome viand is celebrat- 
ing the anniversary of its fifth month's residence in 
Dresden. The little English-speaking druggist greets 
us at the entrance of his establishment. His quick, 
discerning eye labels us Americans, and he promptly 
presents each of us with a printed. list of articles with 
which he supplies tourists. " I have Ivory, Pears', 
and Castile soap, chewing-gum, Pond's Extract, pop- 
corn, Listerine and Talcum powder, ' ' he says. We 
determine that this accommodating merchant should 
be encouraged for his enterprise, so let us increase 
the demand for Americanisms. When we see the 
shriveled pink popcorn in the glass jar, our appetite 
is repelled. It might be embarrassing to ask the age 
of the kernels, still unfalteringly we add to the shop- 
keeper's sales before continuing along the business 
thoroughfare. There are lovely art shops and much 
hand- decorated porcelain. Nearly all of the establish- 
ments make an elaborate display in their show windows, 
but on entering the stores we are disappointed to find 
them poorly equipped. Neither the electric trams nor 
the vehicles seem to create a disturbing influence along 
the streets. 

There is an atmosphere of esthetic culture about 
the city, which we should enjoy absorbing. Let us 
pass on to the Renaissance structure from which this 
artistic atmosphere chiefly emanates. The magnifi- 
cent " Zwinger, " built with an oblong court and 
attractive gardens, was founded about the middle of 



364 Glimpses Around the World 

the eighteenth century and now ranks with the finest 
art galleries in the world. Of course, room "A," 
which is devoted to the exhibition of the most favored 
Madonna, is our objective point. We know Raphael 
painted the Madonna di San Sisto about 15 18 as a 
high altar piece for the convent of Piacenza. Augustus 
III, Elector of Saxony, purchased it for forty thou- 
sand dollars. When the masterpiece was carried into 
the throne room, it was found that the throne chair 
occupied the space most favorable for the hanging of. 
the picture. The King hastily withdrew his seat of 
state, saying "Make room for the immortal Raphael" 
Lo! a curtain has just been drawn back, and the 
Virgin, holding the infant Jesus, issues as it were from 
the depths of Heaven, awe-inspiring, solemn, and 
serene, her large eyes embracing the world in their 
gaze. The figures of St. Sixtus on the right and St. 
Barbara on the left serve as an admirable supple- 
ment. See the reverent and pious St. Sixtus com- 
mending himself to the Virgin's mercy, while, with 
marked contrast in age and sex, the beaming face of 
St. Barbara represents joyful enthusiasm. It is said 
the picture was completed at first without the cherubs, 
or "Raphael's afterthoughts" as they are called. 
One day the artist found two little boys resting their 
arms on a balustrade, gazing intently up at his crea- 
tion. These are the chubby countenances at the 
base. We agree with him who said, " I could spend 
an hour every day for years looking at this picture, 
and on the last day of the last year discover some 
new beauty and a new joy. ' ' There are benches in 
the room, and here we sit and gaze with ever-increas- 
ing delight, forgetful of the efforts of other famous 
artists whose pictures grace the walls of the adjoin- 
ing rooms. The Venetian masters belonging to the 
" Golden Period ' ' of Italian art rank amone the 



The Empire of Four K's 365 

gallery's treasures. We pause before one of the most 
nobly conceived and admirably executed paintings ever 
produced, Titian's "Christ and the Tribute Money." 
Please notice the perfect contrast in these figures. 
This head of Christ, which is regarded as among the 
finest in all art, exhibits a sublimity of expression, 
while the other in the grouping is that of a rough 
weather-beaten Pharisee. There are about two thou- 
sand pictures in this collection, but instead of endeav- 
oring to pass through this maze of coloring let us 
return to the glass-covered "miracle of art." Our 
farewell glimpse of this spiritual creation will always 
be a cherished memory. 

Berlin, the capital of Prussia, residence of the 
German Emperor, and seat of the Imperial Govern- 
ment is our next headquarters. Is the name Berlin 
derived from a Celtic root? her small, short, lyn a 
lake. When our train halts at the " Anhalter Bahnhof " 
we engage an attending "traeger" to care for our 
" handgepack. " Our laden porter leads us to the 
station policeman from whom we obtain a numbered 
metal check. This entitles us to a cab. After the 
"traeger" summons our Droschke we give him fifty 
pfennig. What is the clock-like dial attached to the 
driver's seat? As we enter, the cabman lowers a little 
sign marked Fret, and adjusts the taximeter according 
to the number of persons and pieces of baggage to 
be carried. Thus we find that the black and red 
figures record the exact price of our drive. The 
minimum fare is fifty pfennig, which entitles the 
occupants to a drive of from six hundred to eight 
hundred meters. When we are ready to alight there 
can be no misunderstanding with the cabman, for the 
amount registered is the sum to be paid. We add a 
twenty-five pfennig " trinkgeld. " We have been so 
busy watching this queer, mechanical measuring in- 



3 66 Glimpses Around the World 

strument that we have scarcely had time to notice 
the splendid, clean, busy thoroughfares traversed. 
One rarely sees such cleanliness. The streets are 
paved with asphalt and are swept and washed every 
day. Did you notice every one drives to the left? 
Be careful when you cross the street, for if you are 
run over it is your fault, conveyances always have the 




The Present Imperial Hohenzollern Family. 

right of way. When the driver wishes his horse to 
stop he utters a sound like br-r-r, which produces the 
effect of our whoa. 

We have been told that this is a country in 
which ignorance is not bliss. We must carefully 
remember never to criticize anything pertaining to 
the Kaiser or the German Government adversely. 
Such an offense exposes us to penalty of fine and 
imprisonment. 



The Empire of Four K's 367 

Leipziger and Friedrich Strassen form the chief 
business right angle, while the far-famed " Unter den 
Linden" runs parallel with Leipziger Strasse. The 
buildings are nearly all high and modernly built, and 
give the city a long straight line effect of uniformity. 
Restaurants, cafes, and W einstuben are very numer- 
ous. There are automatic restaurants too, which are 
frequented at all hours by lunchers. Let us step 
into one of these food stations. On one side of the 
room, under glass cases, samples of various kinds of 
roll sandwiches can be found, the price of each being 
marked near the coin slot. Another section is devoted 
to drinks. Watch a patron as he takes a glass from 
a nearby rack, rinses it in running water, and places it 
under the faucet whose label agrees with the chosen 
drink. Inserting the proper coin, he presses a lever 
and the beverage promptly flows into his glass. Just 
a glassful and no more until another coin is invested. 
Everything about this novel lunch room seems sani- 
tary. We are told that it is favored because no fee 
for service is required. The signs in the streets are 
printed in the Latin alphabet and this assists us in 
interpreting the German language, and finding our 
way about. This is the largest city we have yet 
visited on the continent and, though the department 
stores remind us of those at home, we find little of 
genuine interest. Here is a shop where all articles 
such as tea sets, trays, plaques, vases and innumer- 
able bits of ornamentation are stamped, Kaiserzinn, 
for Herr Kaiser is the sole manufacturer of this genu- 
ine dull silvery artistic German ware. We surmise 
that silver and pewter are the chief materials employed 
in its composition. 

The spreading lime and chestnut trees that line the 
widest and handsomest boulevard in Berlin have led 
to its name, "Unter den Linden." Beginning at the 



368 Glimpses Around the World 

west end let us survey this avenue. Here is the 
Brandenburg Thor, which is built in imitation of the 
Propylsea at Athens. It is two hundred and one feet 
broad and sixty-five feet high. Its twelve massive 
Doric columns are surmounted by a car of victory, 
which, though taken to Paris by Napoleon in 1807, 
was brought back by the Prussians seven years later. 
Majestic edifices line the spacious roadway. On the 
right is the Hotel Bristol, adjoining the Weltreise- 
bureatt, or tourists' headquarters. Where Friedrich 
Strasse crosses the Linden w r e find the Cafe Brauer, 
one of the Ber liners' favorite haunts. It is now about 
four o'clock in the afternoon, no holiday, yet the 
tables on the main floor as well as on the upper bal- 
cony are all crowded by men and women whose only 
aim seems to be to have a jolly good time. No one 
seems to worry about work. Is this because the city 
is on the Spree? Let us join in the gemiltlichkeit. 
We sit around a small marble-topped table, and pres- 
ently Herr Ober, as the frock-coated waiter is called, 
takes our order for something to drink. No! no 
ice-cream sodas here, but coffee, tea, chocolate, 
lemonade, beer, wine or gefrorenes may be had. A 
second Kellner serves us. A basket of assorted cakes 
are placed upon the table; you may choose your 
favorite kind and only pay for that which you take. 
Near our table sits a group of uniformed officers. 
How immaculately they are dressed in their bright 
blue, well-fitting coats and silver and gilt decoration; 
spurs and sabers clinking as they move. Their 's is 
an air of haughty superiority. Notice their military 
salute as the passing militiamen pay their respects. 
Have you finished your refreshments? "Herr Ober" 
presents the bill and acknowledges thanks for the 
twenty- five pfennig tip each person gives him. The 
other waiter makes his appearance, and a ten pfennig, 



The Empire of Four K's 369 

or about two cents " trinkgeld ' ' for him insures prompt 
service the next time we call. 

We shall now continue our Linden tour. Here is 
an impressive bronze statue of Frederick the Great. 
The king in his coronation robe is on horseback, and 
around the pedestal are grouped allegorical figures 
suggesting the character of the noble founder of the 
Prussian monarchy. 

Just to the right is the Palace of Emperor Wil- 
liam I. On the balcony, which is supported by Doric 
columns, the old Kaiser was wont to appear each day. 
Opposite are the Academy and University buildings 
and the Royal Library. Again to the right is the 
Royal Opera House and but a short distance beyond 
we see the Church of St. Hedwig, which is built in 
imitation of the Roman Pantheon. Passing the 
Arsenal we cross the River Spree by the \\ ide Schloss 
Briicke, and stand before the huge cathedral built 
in the style of the Italian Renaissance. Adjoining 
the church are the wedding and baptismal chapels, 
as well as the Royal Hohenzollern burial vault. 
Yonder rises the imposing residence of the reigning 
sovereign. It is too late to gain admission to the 
state apartments, for the armed guards who stand 
before the entrance tell us the visiting hours are from 
ten to one o'clock. 

We are curious to learn what lies beyond the Bran- 
denburg Thor on the other side of the Linden. We will 
engage a taximeter cab and join the procession of 
fashionable turnouts that drive through this vast 
forest-park, called the Thiergarten. We wonder as to 
its name, for horses are the only animals we can find 
in the gardens. Here, amid a wealth of green, is the 
Sieges Allee, or Avenue of Victory, which, adjoin- 
ing the park, is lined with large white marble statues 
of all the Prussian rulers. This sylvan museum of 



37° Glimpses Around the World 

sculpture is overcrowded, and to our minds loses its 
artistic design, but ah! we are forgetful that we must 
not speak ill of anything belonging to the German 
Government. From afar we have viewed the tower- 
ing Monument of Victory, which was erected at the 
close of the Franco-Prussian War. Now as we mount 
the eight massive granite steps at its base we see the 
splendid bronze reliefs with which it is adorned. 

We feel exhausted from our strenuous tour and deter- 
mine that a few days of rest at a Natur-Heilung will 
equip us with renewed strength and interest. A half 
hour's ride out of Berlin we find a restful health- 
retreat. Engaging comfortable accommodations at a 
sanitarium we follow a revised prescription of the 
simple life. A vegetarian diet, air and sun baths, and 
long walks through the beautiful Wald, or woods, where 
genuine cuckoos announce the early summer days, 
produce rapid recuperation. 

Again in Berlin an electric tram conveys us to the 
farther side of the " Thiergarten " to visit Charlotten- 
burg, which, though practically a part of the metrop- 
olis, still retains its own municipality. Luckily it is 
not Saturday, so we are permitted to visit the Royal 
Porcelain Factory which was founded about the middle 
of the eighteenth century. We think the decorative 
process lacks the artistic merits of Japanese ceramics. 
Once in the town we pass the Royal Palace and follow- 
ing a lovely avenue of pines reach the restful spot in 
which the remains of King Frederick, William III, 
Queen Louise, William I and Empress Augusta repose. 
The mausoleum is impressive. Excellent life-size 
recumbent marble figures of the deceased adorn the 
sarcophagi. 

Upon our return to Berlin we learn that the Royal 
Family expect to leave for Potsdam this afternoon. 
Let us make the half-hour trip now. It costs only 



The Empire of Four K's 371 

seventy-five pfennig, and we can see the imperial city 
in all its regal splendor. The Hof-eingang of the 
Potsdam railway station, which is used only on state 
occasions, is now open and well guarded by soldiers. 
Palms and lovely flowers decorate the station's royal 
reception room. It is yet early, so we shall have time 
to catch a glimpse of the ancient city. Of course no 
sight-seers can gain entrance to the palatial apart- 
ments now. When we look upon the Palace of Sans 
Souci, we are reminded of Voltaire who, being a fre- 
quent visitor here, once wrote to Frederick the Great 
"A. a." According to the diplomatic language Fred- 
erick the Great interpreted it, u fai grand apetit" (I 
have a great appetite). The Emperor wittily re- 
sponded : 

per ci 
a 



venez sans 
which Voltaire accepted as an invitation, for he 
read it, "venez souper a SansoucV (come to supper 
free from care). 

In one of the rooms of this palace a spider's web of 
gold serves as decoration. It reminds those who gaze 
upon it of a memorable morning during the siege of 
the Seven Years' War. Frederick the Great was 
served as usual with his cup of chocolate, but, just as 
the King was about to drink, a spider dropped into the 
cup. The Kaiser removed the insect and set the cup 
on the floor that his favorite dog might drink. Before 
ordering another cup for himself, he saw his pet 
animal lap the beverage, and then in agony roll upon 
the floor and die. The cook confessed the attempt at 
poisoning his Majesty, and this is why the web of the 
spider who saved the life of the King, now adorns the 
palatial ceiling. 

We return to the station just in time to see H. H. 
Kaiser William mount his handsome steed and, sur- 



372 Glimpses Around the World 

rounded by a mounted body-guard, lead the proces- 
sion to the palace. The Crown Prince follows his 
father, and, not far behind, the royal equipage in 
which sits the sweet-faced Kaiserin and her only 
daughter, Princess Victoria Louise. The Empress' 
hair is snowy white. It is she who has well said, her 
life is devoted to her four "K's, " Kirche, Kaiser, 
Kinder and Kiiche. The throngs of eager expectant 
subjects shout and cheer their welcome, while the 
royal party respond with smiling bows. We . are 
satisfied to have seen the German Imperial family at 
the cost of viewing the interior of the Potsdam palaces, 
and so return to Berlin and catch the first train for 
Hamburg. 

History records that Charlemagne built a block- 
house in 808 A.D. as an outpost against the Slavonians 
and named it Hammaburg. This is perhaps the origin 
of Germany's most northern seaport, which is now the 
fourth largest commercial station in Europe. The 
Alster Bassin, a rippling sheet of water fifty acres in 
extent, is Hamburg's greatest attraction. It lies in 
the center of the modern city and is bounded on three 
sides by quays, planted with trees and flanked with 
splendid modern buildings. It is dusk when we 
arrive; the lights of small steamers and row boats on 
the water, the brilliantly illuminated Kursaal on 
the water's edge, the music and the promenade, alive 
with pleasure-seekers, are alluring. 

By day we view the magnificent new Rathhaus, 
or court house, and on the street meet quaint-looking 
flower- women. They wear short full skirts and gaily- 
colored bodices. They do their hair in two long plaits 
and wear mushroom-shaped straw hats with wide 
black bows at the back. Are they Hanseatic descend- 
ants? A severe fire some years ago destroyed much 
of the Alt Stadt but, as we pass through the remain- 



The Empire of Four K's 



373 



ing old quarters, we find the house in which the choral 
composer Johannes Brahms was born. 

Most tourists merely stop in Hamburg on their way 
to or from the huge ocean liners. If we would travel 
by steamer we must first go by rail to Cuxhaven, the 




Johannes Brahms' Birthplace. 

nearest anchorage for the enormous Hamburg-Ameri- 
can steamers. No doubt the trip on the North Sea 
would be refreshing, but we can save time by travel- 
ing by rail, so let us say, Auf wiederschen, Dentschland. 



CHAPTER XIV 

Hogen-Mogen 

But I have sent him for a token 
To your Low-Country, Hogen-Mogen. 

Butler. 

NOW to the west, to the land of international 
peacemaking, persistent windmills, clacking 
wooden shoes and lovely blue china. We know 
the greater part of Holland lies many feet below the 
level of the sea and were it not for the well-built 
dikes, the little kingdom would become a part of the 
mighty ocean. Perhaps this is why Nature has not 
been lavish in her donation of charms. Yet as our 
train speeds on, we notice that careful cultivation 
of field and garden has imparted a picturesque aspect 
to the Dutchman's country. 

The commercial capital which borders on the Zuyder 
Zee was chosen about the thirteenth century by a lord 
of Amstel, as the site for a castle; a dam was con- 
structed and thus the foundation of the present city of 
Amsterdam was laid. We enter this chief money 
market of Holland through the large Central Railway 
Station which is built in the early Dutch Renaissance 
style. Our knowledge of German is of some assist- 
ance as we try to decipher the queer-looking signs 
about the streets. Here is one marked " Dit huis is 
te huur" (This house is to hire). Our stay in Amster- 
dam will not be of long duration, so this sign is merely 
of unique interest. We find a comfortable hotel on 
the Doelin Straat where English, German, and French 

(374) 



Hogen-Mogen 375 

are spoken for the accommodation of tourists. Did 
you know that the houses in this northern Venice are 
constructed on foundations of piles? Now we under- 
stand the jesting philosopher, Erasmus of Rotterdam, 
when he said, he knew " a city whose inhabitants 
dwelt on the tops of trees like rooks. ' ' 

Let us stroll leisurely about the streets and enjoy 
the city from a pictorial standpoint. Canals inter- 
sect and wind about in every direction, dividing 
Amsterdam into ninety islands which are spanned by 
three hundred bridges. To prevent malarial infec- 
tion, the water is constantly being renewed by an 
arm of the North Sea Canal and the mud is removed 
by dredgers. Yet many of the narrow waterways are 
stagnant and foul to our sense of smell. 

See, the tall brick houses seamed with white cement 
generally terminate in a pointed gable. Owing to their 
unsubstantial foundations all of the buildings are out 
of the perpendicular, and look as though one leaned 
upon the other. We think the greatest difficulty an 
Amsterdam property-owner could cause his neighbor 
would be to remove his own house. The cobble-stone 
roads and streets that line the canals have been 
planted with trees and now form a shady walk. 

Rambling through the old part of the city, we 
encounter several signs which read, " water en viuur 
to koop" (water and fire to sell). Here the shrunken 
pocket-booked Dutchman comes to buy a little boil- 
ing water or a bit of red-hot turf for the preparation 
of his tea or coffee. 

We make our way to the large Jewish Quarter of the 
city. It was here that the father of modern philoso- 
phy, Baruch Spinoza was born. In Jodenbree Straat, 
number four, a tablet marks the house in which 
Rembrandt lived and painted. Tall rickety houses are 
divided by narrow winding lanes, clothes-lines of 



376 Glimpses Around the World 

rainbow-colored garments are festooned from one 
window to the other, while below, fish and old clothes 
are being sold in the byways. It is here, in the midst 
of this congestion, that we find the largest diamond 
polishing mills in Europe. The skilled diamond 
cutters and mill owners are Jews. 

The canal population of Amsterdam reminds us of 
the scene we saw on the Pearl River, outside the 
walled city of Canton. Unlike Venice, many of these 
boats serve as homes. However, the Amsterdam 
canal residents are not permanent; to-day one canal 
may be over-crowded, probably by dawn to-morrow 
this same waterway will be empty. The Dutchman 
here, instead of the Chinese woman, wields the long 
pole, as the barge creeps from one canal to another. 
We can barely suppress our feeling of wondering 
amusement when we meet a lady of Friesland. No 
doubt she is dressed according to her interpretation 
of the latest fashion. The gilt ornaments at her 
temples look like spiral springs. According to legend 
the Friesland cap originated with Queen Fostedina, 
who, when a child, was punished by the priest for 
accepting Christianity. She was forced to wear a 
crown of thorns which cruelly pierced and scarred her 
head. When in later years she became Queen through 
her beloved brother's valor, the scars were still visible 
on her forehead and temples. Her subjects pre- 
sented her with a golden crown of such a shape that 
it completely hid the scars. She accepted it, and 
now every lady wears this unbecoming head-dress, 
though few know why it has been adopted. 

Would you like to indulge in a typical Dutch lunch- 
eon of rye bread, cheese, and a glass of milk, in one 
of the cafes along the busy Kalver Straat before going 
to the Dam? We need but a few of the silver -florins 
and stuivers, for English, French, and German cur- 



Hogen-Mogen 377 

rency is acceptable at the hotel. A florin, which is 
equal to about forty cents in American money, con- 
tains one hundred cents, or twenty stuivers. The 
"Dam" is the focus of business life. Here we find the 
Exchange, the Nieuwe Kerk, and the Royal Palace, 
which, from the appearance of its exterior, suggests the 
fact that it was built as a town hall instead of a pala- 
tial residence. It is said the interior is elaborately 
decorated, and the state reception room is one of the 
largest in Europe. Though an entrance fee admits 
sight-seers, we prefer spending our time in the art 
gallery. 

The Rijk Museum is of special interest, for here we 
find Rembrandt's masterpiece, incorrectly known as 
the "The Night Watch," which many critics claim to 
be the very zenith of Dutch art: 

O mighty master, Shakespeare of the brush, 
Interpreting to eye, as he to ear, 
The story of Earth's passion and its strife, — - 
Thy genius caught the new day's morning flush, 
Saw glory in the common and the near, 
And on the immortal canvas gave us Life. 

Though Rembrandt's birthplace is Leyden (the 
name which also suggests to our minds the place 
from whence the brave little company of Puritans set 
sail across the stormy sea to our own New England), 
still Amsterdam is Rembrandt's city. Once in the 
art gallery, we go directly to the Rembrandt Room 
where the works of the greatest of Holland's artists 
reveal concentration of thought. 

Looking at the canvas called "The Night Watch," 
we see Captain Banning Cook and his lieutenant 
marching in the front. Other men grouped around 
are loading their guns as they go; there has been a 
call to arms, and the rapid response of the soldiers 
finds the people who are passing along the street inter- 



378 Glimpses Around the World 

mingled in the ranks. Perhaps this overcrowded 
effect was increased, when the canvas was cut down 
several inches to fit into a wall at the Town Hall. 
"The peculiar light and the spiritual action of the 
picture elevate this group of portraits into a most 
effective dramatic scene, which, ever since its creation, 
has been enthusiastically admired by all connoisseurs 
of art. " It is here we feel Rembrandt 's deter- 
mination to create action in his grouping portraits. 
This same atmosphere is recognizable in "The Cloth 
Makers" where the artist vividly pictures members of 
the Guild grouped about a table discussing business. 

Now let us turn to the portrait of Elizabeth Bas. It 
seems almost impossible to analyze the charms of this 
prosperous, self-satisfied looking dame in her perfectly- 
arranged cap and ruff. Rembrandt was a realist and 
his creations truthfully depict the simplicity of private 
life, the instinct for security, and the love of order 
which are the personal characteristics of the Dutch 
people, yet with it he did not neglect the decorative. 

The scenes we have viewed in the streets of unique 
Amsterdam form an apropos setting for this splendid 
collection. Rembrandt loads his color on his canvases ; 
at times they seem almost like a piece of modeling 
rather than paint. When viewed too closely, or, as 
Rembrandt himself would have said, "smelt," they 
seem a shapeless patch of blurs and blotches. 

Before leaving the gallery we pause before Melchior 
d' Hondecoeter's Pelican, Ducks and Peacock. Bur- 
ger tells us, " no one has painted cocks and hens, 
ducks and drakes, and especially chickens, so perfectly 
as Melchior d' Hondecoeter. He paints such families 
with insight and sympathy, as Italians paint the 
mystical Holy Family; he expresses the mother-love 
of a hen, as Raphael expresses the mother-love of a 
Madonna. ' ' Looking on this artist 's work we are 



Hogen-Mogen 379 

reminded of the story of an international art compe- 
tition, at which the judges were unable to determine 
to whom the prize should be awarded. French, 
German, and American artists were the final con- 
testants, and they were questioned as to their former 
work. The Frenchman told how he had painted 
a winter scene so realistically that the thermometer 
which hung behind the canvas froze. A pine slab was 
so skilfully painted to represent marble, by the German 
artist, that when it was placed in the water it sank. 
The judges became the more puzzled upon hearing of 
these remarkable creations, and in despair turned to 
the American. He said he could recall but little of 
former art credit, but one day, idly sitting at his desk, 
he drew the picture of a hen and when he had finished 
his crude sketch he threw it into the waste paper- 
basket and there it laid. Who do you think won 
the prize? 

The hour of the closing of the collection summons 
us to the exit. We leave the treasure house of art 
reluctantly. The shops are not particularly attrac- 
tive and though we have found that Amsterdam's 
aristocrats enliven the hours of night with revelry, we 
prepare for the morrow's excursion by retiring early. 

Three florins is the price charged each person for 
the round trip to the old-fashioned Isle of Marken. 
At ten o'clock in the morning we find ourselves, in 
company with other tourists, at de Ruyterkade, ready 
to board the comfortably-equipped steam yacht 
which plies across the " Y" and along the North Hol- 
land Canal. Our first stop is at the village of Broek 
in Waterland, which is famous as the home of the 
Edam cheese. We follow our guide to the old village 
church. On the way we pass a house on which a pla- 
card of red silk and lace is hanging. This we learn 
announces the stork's visit. To-night the friends of 



380 Glimpses Around the World 

the family will meet within and partake of kandeel 
(wine) and kaneel-koekjes (cinnamon cakes) in honor 
of the birth. Under each seat in the old church we 
rind small crockery receptacles not unlike the Italian 
" scaldini, ' ' which during the winter are filled with 
peat and used as feet warmers for the devotees. 

In visiting the Model Cheese Factory we are inclined 
to agree with the Hollanders who claim that this 
example of the national virtue of cleanliness is a joke. 
The cows, the pets of the family, are kept in stalls 
that form a part of the house. Lace curtains hang 
before the stall windows, and pink or blue ribbon, 
and a ring, instead of tempting the babe, is here used 
to keep her cowship's flexible appendage away from 
the sawdust covered floor. 

Aboard the yacht we steam on to the village of 
Monnikendam. En route we must pause to pay toll 
at the lock. Notice that a tiny wooden shoe serves as 
the coin repository. Monnikendam 's chief point of 
interest is the old church, which, though built by the 
Catholics, is now used as a Protestant house of wor- 
ship. Its clock tower suggests the mechanical Stras- 
burg timepiece, for at each hour, figures move auto- 
matically before the dial. Just listen to the clattering 
sabots as the children come home from school. One 
little girl has broken her wooden shoe while frolicking, 
and is now limping home on one foot. 

A tasty luncheon is served aboard our yacht, and by 
the time we have finished our refreshments, we are 
ready to land on the queer little island which, though 
so near Holland's metropolis, has yet retained its 
unique customs. See the broad-bowed fishing smacks, 
and the curious costumes worn by the brawny men. A 
tight-fitting coat of dark serge, a colored kerchief tied 
about the neck, and quaintest of all, the extraordinary 
breeches. As the wind blows and spreads out the ma- 



Hogen-Mogen 381 

terial between the gathering at the waist and knee, 
we decide that there is enough cloth in each trouser 
leg to make a woman's skirt. Dark blue stockings 
and wooden sabots complete each man's attire. While 
we have been paying attention to the Dutchman's 
breeches, the Marken dames and junior inhabitants 
have become aware of our arrival and are bowing a 
greeting. They look at us with as much curiosity 
as we do at them. 

Several padded petticoats covered with a red or blue 
serge skirt, wooden sabots, a three-piece bodice, flaxen 
hair done into side plaits, and a white night-cap-like 
head-dress is and has been Dame Fashion's decree 
during the past three centuries. We notice the chil- 
dren are a minimized duplicate of their mothers. Are 
there no little boys on the island? we ask. And one 
mother who seems to understand our question points 
to a small red patch on the little white cap worn by 
one of her children saying: "here, boy. " Yes, this tiny 
red patch on the boy's bonnet is the only sex dis- 
tinguisher until the age of seven years. 

About one thousand of these fisher folk live in the 
seven villages that comprise the island. The curious 
little windmills must work almost constantly to resist 
the encroaching sea,. Isn't it strange there is not a 
tree upon the island? Some of these Markenites cor- 
dially invite us to inspect the interior of their homes. 
The houses are usually two-storied. Everything about 
them is scrupulously clean. Lovely Delft ornaments 
and fine old paintings adorn the room which serves the 
family's every want. These heirlooms the owners 
prize highly, and even large sums of money rarely 
tempt them to sell. Our return steamer trip, via the 
Zuyder Zee and the "Y" Canal lands us in Amster- 
dam in time for an evening dinner, well satisfied with 
our day's excursion. 



382 Glimpses Around the World 

The morning train carries us southwest through the 
famous horticultural district of Haarlem, which has 
been often called "the paradise of flowers," where 
tulips, hyacinths, and crocuses have flourished for 
centuries. As we speed past the profuse blossoming 
fields, the effect is that of a vast and varied-hued 
velvety carpet whose delightful perfume is wafted to 
us for miles. Frans Hals spent the greater part of his 
artistic life here in Haarlem. If time permitted we 
should stop and view the church of St. Bavo which 
contains one of the largest organs in the world. We 
are told that it possesses four key boards, sixty-four 
stops, and five thousand pipes, the largest being 
thirty- two feet by fifteen inches. 

The Hague, Holland's pretty capital city, has been 
well chosen as the home of the Temple of Peace. Here 
during four months of 1907, three hundred delegates 
from all the states of the world were able to discuss 
the gravest and the most delicate questions in all 
their details, with vivacity and passion, but without 
the slightest disorder. The civilized world has become 
conscious of the infinite value of the Second Confer- 
ence. " The greatest advance man has ever made by 
one act is the creation of a World Court to settle inter- 
national disputes. ' ' 

Baron d' Estournelles de Constant tells us, the 
recent Conference has been a simple session between 
the First and Third Conferences, and it is the very 
modesty of its role that constitutes the grandeur of its 
work, for it has demonstrated the possibility of creat- 
ing a Universal Parliament by its own life and by the 
very length and regularity of its action. 

We remember Washington said, " My first wish is to see 
this plague of mankind, war, banished from the earth, ' ' 
and to-day we realize that the civilized world is steadily 
moving toward the reign of peace through arbitration. 



Hogen-Mogen 383 

With satisfaction we hear the report of James Brown 
Scott, the Technical Delegate of the U. S. A., to the 
Second International Peace Conference. He says four 
things of importance were accomplished at the Second 
Conference: First, it provided for a meeting of a 
Third Conference within an analogous period, namely 
eight years, to be under the control of the Powers 
generally, instead of the control of any one of them. 
Secondly, it adopted a convention for the nonforci- 
ble collection of contract debts, substituting arbi- 
tration and an appeal to reason for force and an appeal 
to arms. Third, it established a prize court to safe- 
guard neutrals; and, Fourth, it laid the foundation of, 
if it did not put the finishing stone to, a great court 
of arbitration. Through discussion with various 
national political leaders, we are convinced the Second 
Conference has proved that peace is normal and war 
the abnormal condition of civilized nations, and we 
give all honor to the men who have worked for inter- 
national arbitration and who have consecrated their 
efforts to the peace of the world's unity. 

How unlike '5. Graven Hage, or den Haag, which 
translated from the Dutch means, "the count's enclo- 
sure," is to the kingdom's commercial headquarters! 
We find the capital city well laid out with wide beau- 
tiful thoroughfares, splendid substantial houses, an 
abundance of lovely foliage, and but a few canals. 

The Binnenhof, or headquarters of the Dutch 
Parliament, is the center of the political life. See the 
red, white and blue horizontally-striped banner float- 
ing over the palace of Her Majesty Queen Wilhelmina 
Helena Pauline Maria, who succeeded to the throne on 
the death of her father, King William III. She is a 
descendant of the House of Orange, and possesses a 
large fortune entirely independent of the throne. 
Near here we find the Mauritshuis. The Hague is 



384 Glimpses Around the World 

closely associated with Maurice of Nassau, the second 
son of King William the Silent. Now his house serves 
as a fitting home for one of the most valued conti- 
nental art collections. An early visit proves a con- 
tinuation of Amsterdam's art pleasures, for here 
Rembrandt and Paul Potter share honors. In room 
seven we find Rembrandt's celebrated School of 
Anatomy, the most famous doctor's picture ever 
painted. Here sits Dr. Tulp, professor of Anatomy 
in the Surgeon's Guild at Amsterdam, with forceps 
in hand, lecturing to his class. He is explaining the 
intricacies of the tendons of the hand and arm of a 
corpse which, in its peculiar death-like hue, lies in the 
foreground. This was Rembrandt's first great com- 
mission. Being a friend of the members of the asso- 
ciation he was selected to paint a group that might 
be hung in the Guild Hall as a reminder of Dr. Tulp's 
great work. The artist attended several of the ana- 
tomical classes to observe, when they knew it not, the 
professor and students at their clinic. His impressions 
he would carry away and with artistic accuracy con- 
vey them to his canvas. All were delighted with the 
finished picture and its fame rapidly spread through- 
out Holland. Seven surgeons with various expres- 
sions are grouped around the professor. The men are 
bareheaded, dressed in black with white turnover col- 
lars. " There are perhaps other persons present in the 
hall, as Tulp appears to be looking beyond the picture 
as if to address an audience not visible to the spectator. ' ' 
Rembrandt's pictures are never confined to their 
frames, but suggest a continuity of ideas reaching 
into the materialistic world. "The admirable art of 
the composition consists in its power of riveting the 
attention to the living in the presence of death. " 

In marked contrast let us turn to the other most 
popular picture in the collection; Paul Potter's far- 



Hogen-Mogen 385 

famed "Bull." We remember how the picture was 
carried off to Paris by the French and regarded as the 
fourth most valued canvas in the Louvre, and how 
the Dutch Government offered sixty thousand florins 
to Napoleon for its restoration. We see the young 
bull under a tree, while a cow, a ram, a sheep, a lamb 
and a herdsman are grouped near. "No other painter 
ever concentrated so much life and truthful expression 
in the face of a ruminant. ' ' 

"Art is long and time is fleeting," so again in the 
open let us take a tram along the shady two-mile-road 
which leads to Scheveningen, the rendezvous of 
fashionable Dutch society. The village is situated 
upon the dunes which shelter it from the sea. There 
are pretty cottages along the North Sea coast for the 
accommodation of guests, but we find the inhabitants 
have preserved their primitive mode of living, and, 
like the Marken Islanders, live by fishing. 

We have noticed throughout Holland, dogs hitched 
to carts delivering the wares of the butcher, the baker 
and the candle- stick maker. As we travel south into 
Belgium, we carry away with us a mental picture of 
brilliant green meadows, black and white cows graz- 
ing on the rich flat pastures, and the outline of the 
large, brightly- colored windmills. After all, Holland 
is but the muddy delta of the three great rivers, the 
Rhone, the Meuse and the Scheldt. 



CHAPTER XV 

Minerva's Northern Headquarters 

A LL roads lead to Paris and ours is via Belgium. 
/A The name of Peter Paul Rubens is so closely 
linked with Antwerp we must pause to view the 
master work of Flemish art. Let us engage a cab, the 
driver understands French. We tell him Hotel de Ville. 
Perhaps some of our friends at home may think we 
find board and lodging here, but let them not be misled, 
for Hotel de Ville is the Town Hall. The square in 
front of the city building, known as Grand Place, is 
adorned with a large bronze statue of the heroic Sal- 
vius Brabo victoriously holding a large hand, while at 
his feet lies the body of the wicked giant, Antigonus, 
who cut off the right hand of every seafarer that would 
not pay him a generous tribute. At last Barbo out- 
witted the sea monster and cut off the hand which had 
created so much misery. The name Antwerp is said to 
have been derived from " hand-werpen. ' ' Werpen in 
Flemish means to throw. 

This is Thursday and the art collection in the 
Cathedral of Notre Dame is open free until noon. 
Before making our way into the south transept of the 
most beautiful Gothic church in the Netherlands, let 
us recall the life of him who was born on the day dedi- 
cated to the Saints Peter and Paul. Rubens enjoyed 
honor and fame throughout the European Continent, 
and it was not until the death of his mother that he 
settled down to live in his home city. After his first 
marriage he bought a house in Meir Square. We are 

(386) 



Minerva's Northern Headquarters 387 

told that while his workmen were excavating for the 
foundation of an addition to his home, they trespassed 
on adjoining property belonging to the Gunsmith's 
Guild. In settlement for his servants' unintentional 
misdemeanor, Rubens was requested to paint a pic- 
ture of St. Christopher. Instead of merely fulfilling 
the demand, he graciously created that which we are 
about to view, "The Descent from the Cross." The 
attending sacristan draws aside the curtains, and we 
behold the three-winged picture. The large central 
section immediately attracts our attention, for it por- 
trays the disciples removing the lifeless body of Christ 
from the Cross, in a marvelous fashion. The three 
Marys, especially Magdalen, are beautifully executed 
and reveal their love and sorrow. Indeed the arrange- 
ment of the whole is masterly. The light is wonder- 
ful, coming as it does from the great white cloth in 
which the dead body is to be wrapped. On the smaller 
side panels we see the Virgin visiting St. Anne, and 
the child Jesus' presentation in the temple. The 
attendant now closes these side wings over the 
center, and on their outer side we find the requested 
painting of St. Christopher, the hermit, with owl and 
lantern. The high altar of the cathedral is adorned 
with Ruben's conception of "The Assumption," and 
there are several other notable art examples in this 
house of worship. 

In the Antwerp Museum we find a whole series of 
valuable pictures by the Flemish master, which afford 
an excellent opportunity of studying Rubens on the 
spot where he achieved greatness. " Rubens is a 
figure of great historical importance. He is master of 
the whole range of artistic material, for we have found 
his brush is as much at home in important historical 
compositions as in the richly-colored allegories. ' ' 

The Flemish language sounds similar to the Dutch, 



3 88 Glimpses Around the World 

but we have no need of an understanding of it, for 
French is spoken almost universally. Belgium was 
originally peopled with a Celtic race who were con- 
quered by Caesar. 

" he petit Paris," as the Belgium capital is known, 
is our next halt. When we remember that the versa- 
tile Rubens has left more than fifteen thousand pic- 
tures bearing his name, we are not surprised to find 
that Brussels now boasts of an art display equal to 
that of Antwerp. But Brussels' art is not restricted 
to painting. 

The last half of the fifteenth century was the golden 
age for tapestry. The Flemish productions of that time 
are perfect models of textile art, rich in color, strong in 
decorative effect, and graceful in drawing and compo- 
sition. During this best period of Flanders' craft of 
weaving not more than twenty different tints of wool 
were employed, half tints and gradations being pro- 
cured by hatching one color into another. Brussels 
was highly favored by Charles V, who made it the 
capital of the Netherlands. On the fall of Napoleon, 
Belgium and Holland were united under William of 
Nassau, and Brussels was the seat of government 
alternately with The Hague. 

Let us look upon the beautiful Column of Congress 
which was erected to commemorate the date in 1830, 
when the Belgians declared their independence and 
offered the crown of their kingdom to Leopold of Saxe- 
Coburg. 

The Grande Place, or market, is considered to be 
one of the finest mediaeval squares in existence. 
Before we leave this lower town we must see the small 
bronze nude figure known as the Manikin Fountain. 
The unique image has always been a great favorite 
with the Belgians and on state occasions is attired in 
patriotic costumes. The group of splendid state 



Minerva's Northern Headquarters 389 

buildings and spacious parks of the upper town is a 
typical palatial residency, and is known as " Quartier 
Leopold. ' ' 

Returning to the shopping district we find the far- 
famed attractive lace shops of Brussels. The prices 
which are reckoned according to the Belgium francs 
and centimes, seem reasonable. One franc, which 
contains one hundred centimes, is equal to twenty 
cents American money. When we are permitted to 
see a few of the one hundred and thirty thousand 
women who are employed to sit with cushions upon 
their laps and weave, thread by thread, the lovely 
Brussels-point and Mechlin lace, we are reminded 
how Flanders became the cradle of this industry. 
According to legend, there was once a very beautiful 
Princess who constantly dreamed of a gallant Prince 
Charming, but the King, her father, made up his mind 
that his daughter should marry one of his own asso- 
ciates, a very brave, but at the same time a very 
cruel and disagreeable man. He desired his prospec- 
tive son-in-law to come to the castle at a certain time, 
and when he arrived informed his daughter of his 
intentions and ordered her to be amiable and kind 
towards her future husband. The poor Princess was 
in despair but the king would not listen to her 
entreaties and gave instructions that all preparations 
for the marriage should be made immediately. At 
length the fatal day arrived, and with it the fiance 
who presented himself at the palace radiant with joy 
at the success of his schemes; but to the surprise and 
consternation of everybody the bride had disap- 
peared. In vain they searched the palace and gardens, 
she was nowhere to be found, but just as they were 
giving up their quest, her little dog betrayed her 
hiding place in an old tower at the bottom of the 
Royal Park, The King and his future son-in-law 



39° Glimpses Around the World 

hastened to the tower and commanded the Princess 
to come forth. She, however, had locked herself 
securely inside, and from an upper window replied, 
that she had made up her mind to end her days in her 
retreat. In a rage, the king ordered the door of the 
tower to be walled up, and swore a solemn oath that 
his daughter should never leave her prison alive. 
Thus several years passed away, and the poor Princess, 
languishing in her fortress, dreamed of the Prince 
Charming who never came to her assistance. Her 
cheeks grew hollow, her figure lost its beauty and 
grace, and she was beginning in her despair to wish 
she were dead, when a little incident occurred which 
entirely changed her sad and monotonous life. One 
morning on awakening she perceived a spider spinning 
its web at the window of her miserable apartment, 
and when it had finished, its work was so marvelous, 
and the design so delicate, that she could not resist 
trying to imitate it. She took a silken thread and after 
innumerable failures at last succeeded. She had 
made the first lace. From that time she devoted her- 
self to this interesting work, and when, on the 
death of her father, her imprisonment came to an 
end, she continued her favorite occupation as her 
pleasure. 

Before leaving the Belgian metropolis we must step 
inside the Gothic structure of S. Michel and S. Gudule, 
the largest and finest Cathedral in Brussels. The 
elaborately-carved pulpit representing the Expulsion 
from Paradise is admirable. Among the profuse foliage 
there are all kinds of animals while above is the Virgin 
and the Child who is crushing the head of the serpent 
with the Cross. 

We reach the railway station just in time to catch 
the express train for Paris. Let us not be forgetful 
that ten miles south of Brussels lies the field of the 



Minerva's Northern Headquarters 391 

memorable Battle of Waterloo. A crouching lion upon 
a massive pyramidal monument marks the site of the 
greatest battle of modern times ; that event of June, 
181 5, which closed the long series of wars that had 
devastated Europe but given France supreme military 
prestige. 



CHAPTER XVI 

The Abode of Dame Fashion and Her 
(K)nights of Gaiety 

Cities are like people in that a portrait of any one of them cannot 
wholly reveal the individual: yet a rough sketch, made with a few swift, 
lines, may diselose the subject's identity. SO strangely simple is that 
spiritual element whieh some call soul and some call personality. 

LV BELLE FRANCE;" and the French tell us, 
"II riy a que Paris" (There is but one city in 
the world worth seeing, and that is Paris). The 
very name fills onr minds with a thousand memories. 
We shall abide by the suggestion, " See Paris and live. " 
It is night when we enter the Magic Lantern City aglow 
with its gaudy brilliancy. A facteur, or porter at the 
station, transports onr baggage to a taximeter cab, 
but we must first assure the octroi official that we 
have no tobacco nor eatables concealed in our baggage. 

The crowds about the station all seem to be in a 
state of great excitement, there is loud talking and 
much pantonine. We have come to Paris thinking 
Ave understand French after our course of study at 
school, but. alas, already we are puzzled as to the 
meaning of the rapid jumble of articulation. 

May is the beginning of the tourists' season and many 
Parisians are leaving the metropolis for their summer 
villas. 

We have chosen hotel accommodations off the 
Champs Elysees, near the Palace de V Etoile, and are 
now driving through brightly-illuminated thorough- 
fares alive with pleasure-seekers. Tables and chairs 

(392) 



The Abode of Dame Fashion 393 

belonging to the various cafes occupy two-thirds of 
the wide sidewalks. Animated men and women in 
full dress are eating and drinking in the open, while 
now and again we catch the strains of music from a 
stringed orchestra. 

We are now at the Place de la Concorde. Auto- 
mobiles and cabs are rushing in every direction, 
though we are now beyond the reach of the two- 
storied tooting trams that monopolize the narrower 
streets. What square in Europe or indeed in the whole 
world equals this one? It was here the guillotine did 
its bloody work upon Louis XVI, Charlotte Corday, 
the ill-fated Marie Antoniette, Robespierre and many 
loyal Girondists. In the center rises the mighty red 
granite obelisk from Luxor; on either side refreshing 
silvery sprays are thrown from splendid bronze foun- 
tains, while massive statues and pillars representing 
various French provinces sweep in a grand circle 
around the square. Lighted streets and boulevards 
lead in all directions; eastward lie the palatial Tui- 
leries, looking down the Rue Roy ale we can see the 
outline of La Madeleine, while opposite, across the 
River Seine, rises the Chambre des Deputes, and now 
we are driving through the Elysian Fields toward the 
last of Napoleon's Triumphant Arches which pierces 
skyward some two miles up the boulevard. This is 
our first "coup d' oeil" of the groves and gardens of 
Paris, the palaces, the proudest monument of her son's 
glory and the masterpiece of modern French architec- 
ture. A gradual ascent of the boulevard leads us to 
the majestic white marble archway a la belle etotle. 

We are already at our hotel and find the portier 
and the femme de chambre in attendance at our 
rooms, which are equipped with every modern con- 
venience. Though English is spoken we shall try to 
improve our knowledge of French. 



394 Glimpses Around the World 

The morning dawns with sunshine and an invigo- 
rating atmosphere. The breakfast room, as in Italy, 
is quite empty, because most of the guests are served 
in the privacy of their own apartments. Here is a 
waiter, let us keep our good resolutions, " Bonjour, 
gargon, cafe au lait et du pain au beurre, s'il vous plait. " 
We find the coffee good, and the yard of crisp crusted 
bread delicious. We have already acquired a taste for 
the unsalted butter. 

And now to begin our Parisian tour. Shall we 
board one of the clumsy-looking steam trams on the 
Boulevard Haussman and ride to the Opera House? 
If we do, let us climb up the narrow steps to the top 
of the car, we can gain such a splendid view. Here it 
is second-class and costs only fifteen centimes, while 
inside, where the air is oppressive and we can see but 
little, the fare is just double. Of course a three-sew, or 
three-cent, fare does not entitle us to a correspond- 
once (transfer). Did you notice these steam trams 
stop only at certain stations which are marked by 
signs on the streets arrest du tramway? In passing 
the Magasin du Printemps see the busily-engaged 
clerks stationed on the sidewalks behind counters 
piled high with all kinds of cheap merchandise. Alight- 
ing at the Rue Gluck at the rear of the Grand Opera 
House, we walk through the Rue Halevy and reach 
the Place de V Opera. Here is the Academic Nationale 
de Musique, the largest theater in the world, covering 
an area of nearly three acres. The three- storied facade 
of the gray stone building looks heavy in its elaborate 
decoration, but we shall be better able to form an 
opinion after we view the interior. 

Crossing the Boulevard des Capucines, which, after 
it intersects the Place de l' Opera, becomes Boulevard 
des Italiens, we see the tourists' Parisian headquarters, 
Thomas Cook and Sons' office. English-speaking 



The Abode of Dame Fashion 



39: 



guides thrust their services upon us as we near, insis- 
tant newsboys are selling to-day's issue of the Paris 
edition of the New York "Herald." The tourist office 
attendants speak English and make us feel quite at 
home. Up-stairs, the reading rooms equipped with 
recent editions of all the leading newspapers of the 
United States and England, and the mail department 
serve as a cosmopolitan reception headquarters. Let 
us register in the Guest Book, so that friends from 
home who may glance here can learn of our location. 

To-day we will be forgetful of the historical capital 
of France, and will enjoy the noble avenues and wide 
boulevards which seem as though they were made to 
live in. The shop window displays along the Avenue 
de l'Opera and the Rue de la Paix are elaborate, as 
may be expected of this far-famed center of fashion. 
There are whole shops devoted to the sale of fans 
exquisitely-delicate mother-of-pearl and Rose-point 
lace eventails, gauze bespangled specimens of all 
colors and sizes, courtly plume-covered wind-pro- 
ducers, and others of variously-colored silk flowers 
that when folded together, form natural looking cor- 
sage bouquets. Next is a glove shop. We have always 
been told gloves in Paris are cheap, but upon inquiry 
learn that the price of a good quality of kid gloves is 
nearly equivalent to that charged at home. A sign 
marked Confiseurs reveals a seller of fine candies. Here 
is an optician's exhibit of des jumelles (opera glasses). 
Now for the milliners and dressmakers. Surely such 
attractive displays can be found nowhere outside of 
Paris. "English spoken" is a sign that occupies a 
conspicuous space at nearly every first-class con- 
cern. The prices at these shops which cater to the 
Americans are always the highest. 

Let us visit one of the leading exclusive toilette 
establishments. A suave-mannered gentleman in full 



396 Glimpses Around the World 

dress greets us, his quick discerning eye labels us 
Americain. He requests us to be seated in a 
richly-furnished salon. We tell him for 'what kind of 
an occasion we desire a costume, and soon the show 
room is alive with human fashion plates who strut 
about decked in the latest style of gorgeous creations. 
These are the samples molded upon the feminine 
models from which we make our selection. 

If we wish less exclusive styles let us go to the 
Grande Magasins de Nouveautes, such as "Bon 
Marche," Au Louvre, Galleria Lafayette, An Prin- 
temps, etc. These department stores are provided 
with interpreters, men who graciously accompany 
one who is not versed in the French language to any 
or all sections. Have we ever seen such an array of 
silk petticoats? This is one of the French dames' 
extravagances, for as the Indian women bedeck them- 
selves with anklets and nose rings, so these madames 
and madamoiselles prefer "soft raiment" to a sub- 
stantial meal. Flowers, feathers, ribbons, laces, silks, 
satins, and velvets are all found in great abundance. 
We select the articles we wish to purchase, and upon 
learning the price offer the salesman our money. 
This he does not accept, but tells us to follow him to 
the cash counter where a man sits writing. We 
must stand in line, for there are several customers 
ahead of us. When it is our turn, our salesman tells 
the cashier the cost of the goods and the quantity 
purchased, the cashier-bookkeeper figures the total 
sum, makes the entry and accepts our money while 
our clerk wraps the goods in a parcel. Perhaps dur- 
ing this time some half a dozen other customers are 
desirous of investing their francs and centimes at the 
counter which attracted us. They must wait until 
the salesman who served us returns. We notice in 
the crowded silk department, numbered tickets must 



The Abode of Dame Fashion 397 

be obtained by the customer before a salesman can be 
secured. 

Let us complete our shopping expedition and engage 
a taximeter Voiture (cab) for a drive this afternoon 
through Paris' spacious recreation grounds, the Bois 
de Bologne. The beautiful park covers an area of two' 
thousand two hundred and fifty acres. It is here that 
we find the aristocratic Parisian children in their 
dainty frocks strolling with their nurse-maids who 
wear profuse and vari-colored ribbon ruches as their 
head dress. This forest was long the resort of duellists 
but now it has been attractively laid out with arti- 
ficial lakes, gardens, picnic groves, and sporting 
grounds, intersected by macadamized roads through 
which the elite drive. We have always heard that 
dogs are great pets with the Parisians but. we are sur- 
prised when we see a tiny canine in a passing motor 
car seated beside the chauffeur, decked in motor cap 
and flowing pale blue chiffon veil. After such a sight 
we are not surprised to hear several puny-looking 
urchins on the street wishing to be dogs. The sun- 
shine, the balmy early summer atmosphere and the 
lovely green foliage are exhilirating. 

For a varied elaboration upon to-day's picture of 
Paris let us spend the evening along the Boulevard de 
Clichy. A building built to represent a red mill and 
known as " Moulin Rouge" is one of the most popular 
of music and drinking halls. The attendants speak 
English and we are surprised to learn that the gen- 
erous American patronage, is an important factor in 
its maintenance. By day we are told this district is 
neglected, but now at night it is the gayest of scenes. 

A short distance down the street we pause before a 
dismal looking doorway over which hangs a green 
lantern marked Cabaret du Neant. The exterior 
appearance suggests an undertaker's establishment, 



398 Glimpses Around the World 

though we translate the sign "Wine shop of Nothing- 
ness. ' ' An attendant dressed in a sexton's garb ushers 
us into a room whose only light radiates from tiny 
tapers burning on several coffins. He chants, "bring 
in your bones and choose your coffin. " We are 
requested to sit on benches around one of these coffin- 
like tables, and the sepulchral voice asks " What poison 




Experiencing a Round to the Unknown Regions. 

Monsieur? et Madame?" and serves us with beer. 
Then he points to a placard on the wall which requests 
us, in consideration of the rapid decomposition of our 
fleshy forms, to pay for our refreshments "C. 0. D. " 
Let us look around this gruesome place. In yonder 
corner stands an open coffin with a sign a loner (to 
let). In the center of the room is a unique and ghastly 
chandelier, which we are told is made from the bones of 



The Abode of Dame Fashion 



399 



visiting corpse who failed to fee the undertaker that 
served them with draughts of forgetfulness. We look 
at one another in horror, for we have all turned a 
deathlike color, due to a unique lighting contrivance. 
See! each of the frescos around the room changes from 
figures of human beings to skeletons. Are we dream- 
ing? No, it cannot be a nightmare, for we follow an 
old man in monk's attire through a darkened corridor 
into a dingy room. "Nearer My God To Thee" peals 
forth from an organ as we seat ourselves before a small 
platform on which stands a perpendicular open coffin. 
Some one in the audience volunteers to experience a 
round trip to the unknown regions, and steps inside 
the vertical coffin. A shroud covers all but the sub- 
ject's face. Intently we gaze, the life-like expression 
gradually fades, the shroud slowly vanishes, the corpse 
becomes a skeleton and then gradually life re-enters 
and the subject returns to the audience seemingly 
unconscious of his experience. We have seen enough ; 
though voices from sepulchers beyond are calling, we 
make our way into the street, happy to be again 
conscious of the reality of our existence. 

Across the street L'Enfer and he del are thronged 
with revelers. Where shall we go? While here let us 
see both. The entrance to Inferno is represented by 
a monster's head, the mouth of which serves as 
doorway. The interior walls and ceiling are adorned 
with hideous reliefs of demons, reptiles and suffering 
humanity. At small glass-top tables, lighted from 
beneath, we are served with beer. Boisterous sing- 
ing by numerous representatives of Mephistopheles 
furnishes the entertainment. 

Just next door, men who look as though they 
belonged in the house from which we have come, are 
dressed in white robes with wings, long blonde hair, 
and wreaths of roses. They lead us through the 



4o° Glimpses Around the World 



church-like entrance to Paradise where we all sit 
around a long table, while more dissipated-looking 
men dressed to represent saints chant, and preach and 
dispense liquors. Profanity is not amusing, and as it 

is getting late, 
let us hire a cab 
and drive back 
to the more 
charming Paris 
in which we 
live. 

Even rainy 
mornings are 
acceptable, and 
we decide this 
is an advanta- 
geous time for 
a visit to one of 
the most ex- 
tensive and his- 
torically inter- 
esting buildings 
in the world. 
The Louvre was 
the chief royal 
palace of the 
kings of France 
until Louis XIV 
built Versailles. 
Rapid under- 
ground trans- 
portation .via 
the Metropolitan railway lands us near the Tuileries. 
The facade on the west side of the palace court ranks 
as the most perfect example of the early French 
Renaissance. The art collection is so vast it would 




Paradise or Inferno? 



The Abode of Dame Fashion 401 

require two hours merely to walk through the palatial 
exhibit. Monday is cleaning day in all Parisian public 
buildings, at other times, except fete days, the Louvre 
collection is open free to the public. 

Checking our umbrellas at the entrance, we make 
our way through spacious corridors lined with antique 
sculpture to the Salle devoted to the most celebrated 
of the treasures of the Louvre. The statue of Venus 
of Milo or Melos is probably the most admired single 
work of antiquity in existence. It was found in 1820, 
by a peasant, on the Island of Milo at the entrance of 
the Greek Archipelago, and sold to the French Govern- 
ment for six thousand francs. It is thought to have 
been created in the time of Phidias, about 400 B. C. 
The physical loveliness and perfect symmetry of the 
goddess born from the foam of the sea has never had 
finer, more artistic embodiment than in this statue 
which represents a majestic woman, undraped to the 
hips, standing with her weight on the right foot and 
the head turned slightly towards the left. The poise 
of the figure is grand in its simplicity, though the 
arms are broken off. 

On the landing half way up the flight of stairs which 
leads to the paintings, we find the exquisitely draped 
colossal winged body of the headless goddess standing 
on the prow of a vessel. This statue is known as the 
Winged Victory of Samothrace, being found on the 
Island of Samothrace in the northern part of the 
^Egean Sea where it was probably erected in honor 
of some naval victory. 

The Salon Carre is our goal, for like "La Tribuna" 
in the Uffizi Gallery at Florence, it contains the gems 
of the Louvre. By means of good photographs we 
have been on friendly terms with most of these mas- 
terpieces for years. Now a personal introduction to 
the originals with the added charm of marvelous 



4©2 Glimpses Around the World 

coloring is a joy. Leonardo da Vinci's Mona, or 
Madonna Lisa is the first canvas to attract our atten- 
tion. Like M. Michelet we are fascinated and absorbed 
by La belle Joconde. To create the subtle expres- 
sion of the beautiful head and the perfect hands of 
this likeness of his Florentine friend's wife, the artist 
labored four years and then proclaimed his work 
unfinished. It now ranks, however, as the finest por- 
trait in existence. The landscape background is 
typical of da Vinci, for we recognize it also in his 
Madonna and Child with St. Anne. 

We are impressed by the wonderful harmony of 
color in Correggio's "Marriage of St. Catharine." 
Splendid examples by Raphael, Veronese, and Titian 
increase our admiration for the Italian school. 
Nowhere outside of Spain do we find such admirable 
work by Murillo as here in his "Immaculate Concep- 
tion. ' ' We are told the French Government bought 
the picture for one hundred and twenty thousand 
dollars, while Murillo received only about five hundred 
dollars for his work. He is said to have taken his 
daughter Francisco as his model. "In a flood of 
divine light, the Virgin, enveloped in a simple blue 
mantle over a flowing white robe, is borne aloft upon 
clouds, attended by more than twenty cherubs, while 
her longing eyes seem to outrun her body in the heaven- 
ward ascent. ' ' Almost every school of painting is well 
represented in this stupendous collection, 

It is already noon, the laughing sun beckons us 
into the open. We must leave the art treasures until 
another visit. 

Let us stop for luncheon in a nearby restaurant. 
Our meal is simple and when we ask for V addition 
s'il vous plait, we are at first startled and then 
amused to note a lengthy itemized check which, plus 
our order, reads, 5 centimes for the use of the table, 



The Abode of Dame Fashion 



4^3 



10 centimes for the use of the dishes, 10 centimes for 
the napkin, 10 centimes for the waiter. 

We cross the River Seine by the Pont Royale. For 
some two miles between the Chamber of Deputies and 
the Church of Notre Dame we find a succession of 
outdoor second-hand book stalls where the literary- 
inclined find entertainment and learning while they 
stroll. 




The Longest Book Shop in the World. 



Yonder rises Notre Dame, the splendid "Cathedral 
of Our Lady," which has been the scene of many 
magnificent and memorable events in French history. 
Here Napoleon and Josephine were crowned, here 
Napoleon III took the lovely Eugenie to wife. As we 
gaze upon the pointed architecture with its project- 



404 Glimpses Around the World 



ing grotesque gargoyles, we are reminded of its somber 
mediaeval pictures so vividly portrayed by the cele- 
brated romancist Victor Hugo. 

A massive gilt dome serves as guide in leading us 

to the chapel of 
Hotel des Invali- 
des. Looking over 
the mai'ble balus- 
trade into the 
open space below, 
we see the massive 
sarcophagus of 
porphyry brought 
from Finland 
which encloses the 
mortal remains of 
the great Na- 
poleon. It rests 
upon a pedestal of 
green granite 
brought from the 
Vosges Mountains. 
Twelve colossal 
statues of victory, 
supporting the 
marble rail on 
which we lean, face 
the tomb. The 
pavement is in 
mosaics with fes- 
toons of flowers, 
and the names of 
the modern Caesar's greatest victories. A conspicuous 
black marble niche at one end of the crypt contains a 
statue of the great Emperor in his imperial robes. 
A hanging lamp is always kept burning before it, and 




Napoleon's Tomb. 



The Abode of Dame Fashion 405 

under the lamp is an antique altar on which are laid 
the three keys of the coffins in which were placed the 
royal lifeless body at St. Helena, the sword used by 
him at Austerlitz, his tri-cornered hat and the gold 
crown presented by the city of Cherbourg. Standards, 
taken in his battles, adorn the sides of the vault, while 
at each side of the entrance are the tombs of Napo- 
leon's two best friends. Over the portal of the entrance 
we read the inscription taken from the Emperor's last 
will: " I wish my ashes to repose on the banks of the 
Seine, in the midst of that French people whom I 
have loved so well. ' ' Here, in the midst of reverential 
serenity, we muse upon the closing chapter in the 
remarkable career of Napoleon Bonaparte, he who, 
after the battle of Waterloo, sailed for England but 
was exiled upon St. Helena, where, after six years' 
imprisonment, he died of cancer of the stomach at the 
age of fifty-one years. In 1840, according to an 
agreement with Great Britain, King Louis Philippe 
ordered the remains of the greatest French Ruler to 
be interred here. With Elizabeth Barrett Browning 
in her poem "Crowned and Buried," we say: 

I do not praise this man : the man was flawed 
For Adam — much more, Christ!- — his knee unbent, 
His hand unclean, his aspiration pent 
Within a sword-sweep — pshaw ! — but since he had 
The genius to be loved, why, let him have 
The justice to be honored in his grave. 

It is too late to view the Luxembourg art collection, 
but we are permitted to enter the stately Pantheon, on 
whose facade we read, " Aux Grands Hommes La 
Patrie ReconnoAssante. ' ' The interior walls have been 
recently adorned with frescos of scenes from the life of 
St. Genevieve, St. Louis and Jeanne d'Arc a Orleans. 
If we take time to visit the vaults we may view the 
tombs of Victor Hugo, Jean Jacques Rousseau, Vol- 



4 o6 Glimpses Around the World 

taire, Mirabeati, and others whose memories are dear 
to every Frenchman. 

Theatrical announcements intermingled with adver- 
tisements are posted on circular towers along the 
outer walk of the principal thoroughfares. At one of 
these tourelles, as the Frenchman calls them, we learn 
of to-night's performance of "Les Huguenots" at 
the Grand Opera House. After having selected the 
number and location of our seats from the miniature 
auditorium which is enclosed in a glass case in the 
lobby, we purchase tickets at the box office. 

At eight o'clock in the evening we pass the uni- 
formed guards at the entrance and enter the imposing 
foyer which is very well arranged. Every anticipa- 
tion of splendor is realized as we mount the brilliantly- 
illuminated broad marble stairway. This, one of the 
finest productions of modern architecture, is indeed 
palatial. We occupy good seats in one of the five 
semi-circular tiers of boxes. The auditorium is 
resplendent with gilded carvings and the ceiling 
superbly frescoed. We must purchase programmes at 
fifty centimes if we wish to learn to-night's cast of 
characters. Before the beginning of Meyerbeer's bril- 
liant orchestration, the old woman attendant of our 
box makes her appearance and begs for gratiiite. 

The scenes of the opera, which are laid in France 
during the bloody persecutions of the Protestants, or 
Huguenots, by the Catholics, are fascinating. Captain 
Raoul de Mangis and his faithful old servant, Marcel, 
win our sympathy. In the fifth act Valentine, having 
become a Protestant, falls beside her fatally-wounded 
lover praising God with her last breath. 

The audience, composed of gorgeously-gowned 
women and men in full dress are enthusiastic in their 
appreciation of this highly dramatic climax. Did you 
notice the men wearing their silk hats in the audi- 



The Abode of Dame Fashion 407 

torium? On leaving the opera we find the streets 
thronged as by day. The gay cafes along the Boule- 
vard des Italiens are overcrowded. Surely the Parisian 
lives as he seeks to live ; amid a tinseled fairy tale. 

Saturday morning the flower markets, especially the 
one in the Place de la Madeleine, reveal a bewildering 
rainbow of God's smiles. 

We must take three trams to reach the Gobelins, 
now the state manufactory of the famous tapestry. 
We have read how the Flemish artists introduced 
tapestry- weaving in France, and in 1630 the ''Gobelin" 
family, an old firm of wool-dyers, established this 
factory. At first not only tapestry but embroideries, 
furniture, mosaics, bronzes, and goldsmith's work 
were here produced for the exclusive use of the royalty. 
The exhibition rooms which we are allowed to visit 
contain several excellent examples of the true art of 
tapestry weaving, in which but a comparatively few 
shades of wool are employed. We are privileged to 
visit the workshops to-day, which retain some forty 
men whose families for generations have been employed 
in this establishment. We watch the four or five 
pairs of skilled hands and practiced eyes that are 
minutely copying the crayon designs with a thousand 
varied shades of wool, making each tapestry picture 
merely an imitation of painting. The brightness of 
the colors and the technically delicate shading we 
appreciate, but these recent creations are far less 
artistic than the early work of tapestry weaving. 
Each workman sits before his loom, a basket of many- 
colored wools at his side. Notice that he inserts the 
shuttles from the reverse side of the tapestry and 
views his efforts by means of a small suspended 
mirror. A skilled workman can complete three or 
even four square yards in a year, for which he receives 
about six hundred and fifty dollars besides free dwell- 



408 



Glimpses Around the World 



ing. These Gobelin products are employed only for 
public purposes and cannot be sold to private cus- 
tomers. 

We have heard of a place near Paris where people 

live in trees. 
Saturday after- 
noon is the best 
time to go, for 
this resort serves 
as a honeymoon 
trail. Many 
bridal parties, 
after the cere- 
mony, drive out 
in open car- 
riages. We de- 
cide to take the 
steam train to 
Sceaux, which 
lies some six 
miles beyond the 
city. A quarter 
of a mile walk 
through the vil- 
lage leads us to 
Sceaux Robin- 
son, which is 
charmingly sit- 
uated at the side 
of a wooded hill. 
Here we find 
large chestnut trees in whose branches several platforms 
have been erected, each of which serves as the most 
unique of refreshment rooms. Let us mount the rustic 
steps which are built at the side of the huge trunk. A 
jolly party of some half a dozen men and women 




Restaurant de L'Arbre du Vrai Robinson. 



The Abode of Dame Fashion 409 

occupy the platform in the lower branch. We con- 
tinue to climb to an upper limb station. Here we sit 
surrounded by the lovely chestnut foliage. The leaves 
nutter in the balmy breeze, while we listen to the 
sweet strains of an orchestra in yonder pavilion play- 
ing the Marseilles Hymn. Now and again we can 
hear the chattering and twittering of the human birds 
in the lower branches ; here, indeed, is a literal trans- 
lation of Shakespeare's thought, "tongues in trees." 
A basket at the side of the tree serves as dumb-waiter 
by supplying a dainty lunch of tea and cakes. Perched 
on high let us drink to France in the words of our 
own poet, Oliver Wendell Holmes: 



Sister in trial, who shall count 
Thy generous friendship's claim, 
Whose blood ran mingling in the fount 
That gave our land its name. 

Once more! the land of arms and arts, 
Of glory, grace, romance; 
Her love lies warm in all our hearts: 
God bless her, Vive La France! 



The rapidly-sinking sun reminds us we must wend 
our way back to the city. There is much of interest, 
which lack of time causes us to leave unseen. Perhaps 
it is true that " all good Americans when they die go 
to Paris," but for our part we choose another visit 
before we " shuffle off this mortal coil. " 

Early morning finds us at the Gare du Nord ready to 
board the express train for Calais, while our heart- 
strings seem to vibrate Au revoir. 

Calais, the nearest continental port to England, is an 
industrial and maritime center. Our train lands us 
close to the wharf, and shortly after noon we bid adieu 
to the Europeon Continent, and go aboard the steamer 



410 Glimpses Around the World 

which plies across the English Channel. Douglas 
Jerrold once said "the best thing I know between 
France and England is the sea, ' ' but we determined 
that the best of all happenings is the fact that the 
uncomfortable pitching of our steamer on the choppy 
waves is only of forty- five minutes' duration. 



CHAPTER XVII 
Land of the Rose 

The land of scholars, and the nurse of arms. 

Goldsmith. 

A T Dover we first step upon the soil of Great Britain. 
r\ English signs gratify our sense of sight ; with 
relief we sigh, no interpreters need apply. 
Having ordered our large baggage sent direct to Lon- 
don, we are spared the jostling crowds who must claim 
their own, for we know England has no check system 
for luggage. 

Like Chaucer's Knights and Prioress of old, let us 
make a pilgrimage to the old cathedral town of Can- 
terbury, which was originally Cantwarabyrig, or 
burgh of the men of Kent. These early pilgrims 
beguiled the time on their journey by telling stories 
peculiar to their separate walks of life. We find 
entertainment in recalling the varied fourteenth cen- 
tury characters, and the habits and appearance of the 
Poet's thirty pilgrims to the shrine of St. Thomas a 
Becket. Chaucer, like Shakespeare, revels in the 
simple glory of Mother Earth and her rich bounties. 
Canterbury, the chief city in Kent, is the cradle of 
English Christianity; in fact of the whole Teutonic 
race. As we pass through the old West Gate of the 
irregular and quaintly built city, we can see the three 
towering cathedral spires. Now we walk along the 
Mercery Lane. The little house at the left-hand 
corner near the cathedral is a part of the celebrated 
hostelry, "Chequers Inn," where the Chaucerian pil- 
grims halted. 

(41O 



412 Glimpses Around the World 

And here is the carved wooden "Christ Church Gate," 
the principal entrance to one of the finest and most 
interesting buildings in England. "An architectural 
expression of the ecclesiastical supremacy which it 
embodies. ' ' We know that the cathedral was origi- 
nally founded by St. Augustine, the first Archbishop 
of Canterbury, in 597, but the structure we view is the 
third to have been built upon this site. A small 
square inserted in the pavement along the northwest 
transept reminds us it was here that Becket was mur- 
dered on the twenty-ninth of December, 11 70, by 
four of King Henry's knights, who forced their way 
into the archbishop's palace. "After a stormy 
parley, Thomas was hurried by his clerks into the 
cathedral, but as he reached the steps leading from 
the transept to the choir, his pursuers burst in from 
the cloisters. ' Where, ' cried Reginald Fitzurse, in 
the dusk of the dimly lighted minster, 'where is the 
traitor Thomas Becket?' The Primate turned reso- 
lutely back, ' Here am I, no traitor but a priest of 
God, ' and he set his back against the pillar and 
fronted his foes. ' ' And here the most popular of 
English saints was struck to the ground. In spite of 
its huge proportions, there is an effect of lightness 
about the entire cathedral. A fee of sixpence, or 
twelve cents American money, admits us to the most 
spacious choir in England whose grand Norman 
arches are supported by octagonal piers. 

While it is yet daylight we shall visit the quaint 
little church of St. Martin, "the Mother Church of 
England. " It is said to have existed before the 
arrival of St. Augustine, and was given by King Ethel- 
bcrt to his Christian wife Bertha, whose old stone coffin 
the verger takes pride in showing to us. In a circular 
stone font, which is probably of Saxon origin, King 
Ethelbert was baptized. 



Land of the Rose 413 

The quietude along the narrow streets lined with 
dilapidated looking buildings, forms a marked con- 
trast to the Parisian boulevards we have left behind. 
A sign marked "First-class hotel accommodations" 
attracts our attention. Let us spend the night here 
and travel on to London at daybreak. 

A smiling little woman greets us at the entrance to 
the hospice. We apply for rooms and she calls her 
maid to show us the old-fashioned furnished, low- 
ceilinged chambers which she tells us cost four and six 
for room and attendance. The mathematician of our 
party promptly asks, "Ten what?" We are all puzzled 
until we are reminded shilling and pence are the coins 
used in England. Four shillings and six pence is about 
equal to one dollar and twelve cents American money. 
Sixpence extra each person for light, supplies us with a 
a flickering candle. 

The tapping of a bell announces " dinner from the 
joint" is being served in the "Coffee Room." We 
respond promptly and find a menu of roast beef, 
Yorkshire pudding, potatoes au gratin, and cheese. 
The meal is not particularly palatable though we eat 
heartily, for "hunger ist der beste Koch." Unlike a 
Continental breakfast, here we are served with fried 
fish, eggs and bacon, poor coffee, crust less bread 
and orange marmalade. With a farewell glance at 
the towering cathedral we take the train to London. 

The word London, a corruption of the Latin Londi- 
nium, is thought by many to have originated from 
the ancient Briton lyn (a pool) and din (a hill fort). 

We can hardly imagine as we enter one of the busy 
railway stations of this most populous city in the 
world, that in the days of the Britons, London was 
merely a collection of huts. 

"Hansoms" and " Fourwheelers " stand in waiting. 
The latter vehicle, less comfortable than our hacks, 



414 Glimpses Around the World 

accommodates three or four persons with satchels, 
which we must now recognize as "dressing bags." 
When we tell the coachman "Hotel Russel, " he 
queries; " 'ave you boxes?" These " Fourwheelers " 
are seemingly built to carry trunks on the top. 
"Poiper, sir? Poiper, loidy?" shout several ragged 
wanf aced urchins as we drive off. 

The streets through which we pass are crowded, 
but not as in Paris where motor cars and electric 
trams speed through the thoroughfares. Here is a 
clumsy network of cabs, rattling horse and electric 
omnibuses, laden vans and surging throngs of human- 
ity which, without the policemen's searching eyes and 
raised hands would become a hopeless tangle. We 
find comfortable accommodation near the British 
Museum. 

Literature has made London seem like an old 
acquaintance. The day is fine, let us get aboard a 
passing omnibus and climb to the "garden seats," as 
the upstair, open air benches are called. Even here in 
the West End, where the streets are wide and there are 
open squares, the atmosphere seems heavy and the 
sky is gray. We are reminded of Byron's lines. 

A mighty mass of brick and smoke and shipping, 

Dirty and dusky but as wide as eye 

Can reach, with here and there a sail just skipping 

In sight, then lost amidst the forestry 

Of masts ; a wilderness of steeples peeping 

On tiptoe through their sea-coal canopy; 

A huge dun cupola, like a fool's cap crown 

On a fool's head, — and there is London town. 

Through High Holborn and Newgate Street we 
reach St. Paul's Cathedral, the largest and most mag- 
nificent Protestant church in the world. Let us 
alight from the 'bus and view this " National Temple 
of Fame. " As we enter the Gothic structure we pass 
the marble statue of Queen Anne, about which an 



Land of the Rose 



415 



allegorical representation of England, France, Ireland 
and America are grouped. Thirty-five years were 
required to complete the construction of this cathe- 
dral, and it is now the burial place of many men 
whom England has delighted to honor. We are 
especially interested in the monuments to Major- 
General Gordon who died at Khartoum, and the bronze 
figure and sarcophagus of the Duke of Wellington. 
In the north transept are appropriate memorials to 
the artistic Sir Joshua Reynolds and Dr. Samuel 
Johnson, "the literary oracle of the world." In the 
crypt we visit the tomb of Sir Christopher Wren, the 
architect of St. Paul's, here we read the inscription, 
"If you would see his monument look around." 
Indeed this cathedral, based on the plan of St. Peter's 
at Rome, is a monument to the greatest of English 
architects. 

Another penny's worth of 'bus ride carries us to the 
center from which the most important streets of the 
city radiate. We have chosen seats next to a talka- 
tive omnibus driver who serves us with a fund of con- 
venient information. This irregular and isolated one- 
storied building is the Bank of England, the only bank 
in London which has the power of issuing paper 
money. Just opposite is the official residence of the 
Lord Mayor, or Mansion House, and here are the Stock 
and Royal Exchanges. Looking down Threadneedle 
street we see Crosby Hall, " one of the few existing 
relics of the domestic architecture of mediaeval 
London. ' ' It was built about the middle of the 
fifteenth century, and once served as a residence for 
the Duke of Gloucester. We remember Shakespeare 
refers to it in his Richard III. Beyond rises St. 
Helen's Church, "the Westminster Abbey of the old 
city" where we are told the parish books record 
William Shakespeare as a parishioner in 1598. 



4i 6 Glimpses Around the World 

At Ludgate Circus we find the maternal office of 
tourist agencies, whose children scattered over the 
entire globe have proved a source of comfort to us. 
From Thomas Cook and Sons' headquarters let us 
walk along Fleet street where newspaper printing and 
publishing signs are conspicuous. A narrow lane off 
the right of the busy thoroughfare leads us to the 
famous old hostelry of the Cheshire Cheese Chop 
House. 

It is noon, let us dine here, at Johnson's and Gold- 
smith's favorite haunt. Steaming beefsteak, pudding 
and dark foaming ale seem to be relished by the sev- 
eral groups of lunchers who, like ourselves, are seated 
on high-backed, wooden benches at either side of 
oblong tables. Before taking our leave we are pre- 
sented with long-stemmed clay pipes, such as Dr. 
Johnson used to smoke while he ruminated here over 
his dictionary. 

Again in the street, we pass along Chancery Lane, 
the chief legal thoroughfare, and on Portugal street 
find "The Old Curiosity Shop immortalized," as is 
written upon the house, "by Charles Dickens." 
Though the building looks dilapidated, it has been 
sufficiently repaired to keep it from falling into a 
ruined heap, and now serves as an important show- 
place to tourists. The interior of its two little rooms 
is filled with appropriate souvenirs, the sale of which 
warrants the preservation of this quaint landmark, 
whose very frame-work speaks of the wanderings of 
little Nell and her grandfather and of the revelings of 
Mr. Dick Swiveller and of the Marchioness. 

Trafalgar Square is the Place de la Concord of 
London. Instead of the Egyptian obelisk, here rises 
a massive granite column to commemorate Lord 
Nelson's glorious death at the battle of Trafalgar. 
Fountains and smaller statues add to the beauty of 



Land of the Rose 417 

the square. On the north side is the National Gallery 
erected on the site of the old King's Mews. 

The early English monarchs and aristocrats patron- 
ized foreign artists, such as Holbein and Van Dyke, 
and it was not until the appearance of Joshua Rey- 
nolds and Thomas Gainsborough that creditable Eng- 
lish art was created. The names of Romney and 
Lawrence must be added among the portrait artists, 
and unquestionably that of Turner, who " expresses on 
canvas what Scott, Wordsworth and Milton have 
given us in poetry. ' ' A shilling fee admits us to the 
extensive exhibits of the National Gallery and the 
adjoining National Portrait Gallery. There are innum- 
erable excellent examples of the various continental 
schools. The Italian masterpieces are especially 
interesting but let us turn our attention to British 
creations. "It is inevitable to compare Gainsborough 
with Reynolds but the comparison is unprofitable, 
since although both painted the portraits of the same 
generation, they were distinctly different in style and 
feeling;" as for instance Gainsborough's Mrs. Siddons' 
en Toilette de Ville, and Sir Joshua Reynolds' portrait 
of the queenly actress which is known as " The Tragic 
Muse. ' ' 

Here we find an admirable collection which the 
greatest of English landscape painters personally 
bequeathed to the National Gallery. Turner's aim 
was to excel Claude Lorraine, the immortal French 
landscape artist. For all times to convince posterity 
of his superiority, he placed his " Dido Building Car- 
thage" and "Sun Rising Through a Vapor" here on 
exhibition. The picture known as " Dido Building 
Carthage" is very beautiful notwithstanding the 
overcrowding of the architectural details, for in it are 
many of the artist's strongest points; "wonderful 
distance and glorious floods of sunlight." Nearby 



41 8 Glimpses Around the World 

hangs the palette from which Turner coined the sun- 
light, which to our minds is the greatest glory of his 
pictures. Ah! "words are only shadows of imagina- 
tive thought, they reflect as in a mirror our dream 
visions of the real. " The hour of closing hastens us 
to the exit. 

! Let us engage a " Hansom ' ' and spend the remainder 
of this day's light in the lovely Hyde Park. We are 
told it was in the reign of Henry VIII that the 
grounds were laid out and enclosed as a park. Enter- 
ing the Londoners' spacious recreation grounds by 
the splendid Marble Arch we join in the procession of 
turnouts. There are spans of prancing steeds with 
coachmen and footmen in elaborate livery, while 
fashionably-gowned ladies recline in luxuriantly 
upholstered carriages. Here is an attractive stan- 
hope drawn by spirited bays, driven tandem by an 
important member of the House of Lords. There are 
many promenaders, and some less energetic dames, 
Who have invested a penny for the use of a seat. 

Yonder rises the elaborate Albert Memorial, embel- 
lished with a profusion of bronze, and marble statues 
suggestive of the various Fine Arts. Gilding, colored 
stones and mosaics surround the colossal bronze gilt 
figure of H. H. Prince Albert. On the golden canopy 
in blue mosaics, we read the inscription, " Queen 
•Victoria and Her People to the memory of Albert, 
Prince Consort, as a tribute of their gratitude for a 
life devoted to the public good. ' ' 

A " hot joint dinner ' ' more pretentious and palat- 
able than the one at Canterbury, is a climax to the 
day's experiences. To the accompaniment of several 
hurdy-gurdies producing musical airs, classic and 
otherwise, we retire in preparation for more London 
sights. 

The ambitious members of our party are up at day- 



Land of the Rose 419 

break to visit Covent Garden, the chief vegetable, fruit 
and flower market of the metropolis. Nearly every 
article known in the vegetable kingdom is found here 
in enormous quantities. Bunches of sweet lavender 
are purchased by the ladies. When the blossoms dry 
they will be bagged and deposited among the clothing 
to produce a delicate fragrance. The houses around 
the market are filled with historical association. 
Charles and Mary Lamb lived here. A nearby site is 
said to have been once occupied by the Bedford 
Coffee House, a favorite resort of David Garrick, the 
artistic Hogarth, and several of their celebrated 
contemporaries. 

Walter Besant, in "All Sorts and Conditions of 
Men," says: 

"There lies on the southwest of Stepney Green a 
triangular district consisting of an irregular four-sided 
figure — what Euclid beautifully calls a trapezium — 
formed by the White Chapel Road, the Commercial 
Road, Stepney Green and High Street, or Jamaica 
Street. This favored spot exhibits in perfection all 
the leading features which characterize the great Joy- 
less City. It is, in fact, the heart of the East End. 
Its streets are mean and without individuality or 
beauty ; at no season and under no conditions can the} 7- 
ever be picturesque; one can tell without inquiring, 
that the lives led in those homes are all after the same 
model, and that the inhabitants have no pleasures. 
Everything that goes to make a city except the means 
of amusement, is to be found here. There are churches 
and chapels — do not the blackened ruins of White- 
chapel Church stand there ? There are superior semi- 
naries and academies, names which linger here to show 
where the yearning after the genteel survives, there is 
a board school, there is the great London Hospital, 
there are almshouses, there are even squares in it — 



420 Glimpses Around the World 

but there are no gardens, avenues, theaters, art gal- 
laries, libraries, or any kind of amusement whatever." 

Then the author of this so-called " impossible story" 
tells us how Angela planned her Palace of Joy in this 
region, the most fitting place, because the most 
dreary; because here, there exisits nothing, absolutely 
nothing, for the imagination to feed upon. 

"There should be, for all who choose to accept it, a 
general and standing invitation to accept happiness 
and create new forms of delight. Here dull brains 
would awaken to a new sense, the sense of pleasure. 
Everything was to be constructed for use and not for 
show. To begin with, three large halls, one of them 
was to be a dancing room, but it might also be a chil- 
dren's play-room for wet weather ; one was to be used 
for a permanent exhibition of native talent, in paint- 
ing, drawing, wood and ivory carving, sculpture, 
leather work and the like, everything being for sale at 
low prices. The last was to be a library, reading, and 
writing room, there was also to be a theater, which 
would serve as a concert and music room and was to 
have an organ in it. In addition to these, there were 
to be a great number of class rooms for the various 
arts, accomplishments, and graces that were to be 
taught by competent professors and lecturers. There 
were to be other rooms where tired people might find 
rest, quiet, and talk — the women with tea and work, 
the men with tobacco, and there were to be billiard- 
rooms, a tennis court, a racquet and a card room. In 
fact, there was to be space found for almost every 
kind of recreation. 

This morning let us take a 'bus marked " Mile End 
Road" and see if this was " an impossible story. " An 
hour's ride due east lands us before the genuine 
"People's Palace, " a huge stone structure in the midst 
of congestion and squalor. The one hundred thousand 



Land of the Rose 421 

pounds sterling required for its erection was furnished 
by an endowment of Mr. J. E. Barber Beaumont, who 
owned considerable property in the East End of 
London. He was desirous, perhaps through the late 
Mr. Besant's suggestion, of bringing within the reach 
of the inhabitants of this district a higher education 
and wider culture than was afforded by any then 
existing institution. An appeal was made to the 
public for funds to erect a large hall suitable for 
meetings, and a library. At the entrance we find an 
attendant who kindly leads us into the spacious 
Queen's Hall, which was opened by Queen Victoria in 
1887. It contains a fine organ; statues of England's 
queens adorn the niches in the walls, and there is gen- 
erous seating accommodation. Adjoining we find a 
well equipped library, the foundation of which was 
laid by H. M. Leopold II, King of the Belgians. Lord 
Roseberry donated the refreshing Swimming Bath; 
the lovely Winter Garden revealing the glories of vege- 
tation was the gift of Lord Iveagh in 1S92, and the 
"Drapers' Company" erected the Technical School. 
This institution of learning, known as the East London 
College, has raised its standard of education, and 
university courses are at the disposal of those inter- 
ested in the important branches of science. We are 
told that the Governors in 1906 added an Arts depart- 
ment to the College Course and "in May, 1907, the 
Governors had the satisfaction of receiving from the 
Body the gratifying announcement, that the College 
was admitted as a School of the University in the 
Faculties of Arts, Science, and Engineering." This 
being Saturday, there are no classes in session, but 
"the Palace of Delight is in working order now, and 
Stepney is already transformed. 

Leaving this back yard of the metropolis, let us find 
ourselves again in Trafalgar Square. We pass along 



422 



Glimpses Around the World 



White Hall to the imposing Houses of Parliament and 
into the structure opposite; "the silent meeting place 
of eight dead centuries. ' ' Westminster Abbey was 
formerly called St. Peter's Cathedral. In 1550, owing 

to a deficiency in 
the accounts at 
St. Paul's, an ap- 
propriation w a s 
requested from St. 
Peter's treasury. 
This action met 
with much op- 
position and is the 
origin of the prov- 
erb, " Rob Peter 
to pay Paul.' 
Through the nort h 
transept we enter 
the coronation 
church of Eng- 
land's sovereigns 
— England VHall 
of Immortals. " 
The spaciousness 
of the vast interior 
awes us; though 
there are several 
groups of sight- 
seers we step cau- 
tiously for fear of 
disturbing the 
sepulchral silence, 
that we are sur- 




Shakespeare's Monument in Westminster 
Abbey. 

Like Washington Irving, "We feel 



rounded by the congregated bones of the great men of 
past times, who have filled history with their deeds, 
and the earth with their renown. ' ' Splendid marble 



Land of the Rose 423 

memorial statues and tablets to Great Britain's dis- 
tinguished men line the walls. Involuntarily we cast 
our eyes upon the pavement, and then reverentially 
step aside as we read the inscription at our feet, 1 
"William Ewart Gladstone." We know the remains' 
of the grand old man lie below, and, according to his' 
dying request, the body of his beloved wife reposes at 
his side. The south transept is the "Poet's Corner," 
and hither we direct our footsteps. Never was spot so 
full cf intense interest. Here is a marble likeness of 
Eavid Garrick stepping out from behind a curtain,' 
while the remains of the famous actor repose below.' 
There is a bust of the classic-featured Addison, here 
Macaulay, Thackeray and Handel. Below is a medal- 
lion portrait of the Swedish Nightingale, Jennie Lind. 
Again our eyes rest upon the pavement, this time' 
to honor our favorite English character delineator, 
Charles Dickens. Here is the full-sized figure of our 
" myriad-minded Shakespeare, ' ' leaning upon a pile of 
his books, while in his left hand he holds a roll inscribed 
with an appropriate quotation from his last play: 

The cloud-capt Towers — The Gorgeous Palaces, 
The Solemn Temples — The Great Globe itself, 
Yea all which it Inherit Shall Dissolve; 
Ard like the baseless fabrick of a vision 
Leave not a wreck behind. 

In the pavement of the east aisle we read the names 
of Robert Browning and Lord Alfred Tennyson. 
Their bodies lie below. Our minds revert to the little 
old cemetery we visited in Florence. Though many 
miles separate the cast off bodies of this 'beloved hus- : 
band and wife, we feel that the souls of the Brownings 1 
are united in Elysium. Oh, here is rare Ben Jonsonl 
and there the old Chaucerian tomb ! With special pride 4 
we stop before the marble bust of the one Ameriearf 
who has been so honored. It is that of our " Children's 



424 Glimpses Around the World 

Poet, ' ' Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. In the adjoin- 
ing chapels, kings and queens, lords and ladies innu- 
merable, whose lives have made Great Britain's history, 
lie sleeping. In the Chapel of St. Edward the Con- 
fessor, we find the eld oaken Coronation Chair. The 
famous stone of Scone is under its seat. Our guide 
tells us this cracked piece of dark colored sandstone, 
twenty-six inches long, more than half as thick, and 
sixteen inches wide, is called by the Irish Lia Fail. 
It was originally brought from the plains of Luz, where 
the patriarch Jacob used it as a pillow during his 
ladder-dream. It is the emblem of power to the 
vScottish Princes, being known to them as the " Stone 
of Destiny. ' ' King Kenneth had it enclosed in this 
chair about the close of the thirteenth century and it 
is inscribed, "Where'er is found this sacred stone, 
The Scottish race shall reign. ' ' 

Now let us apply at the nearby custodian's lodge 
for the huge key which admits us to the Jerusalem 
Chamber. Fine old tapestries depicting historical 
scenes of the Holy City have led to the naming of 
this room in which King Henry IV died. The scene 
is made familiar to us in the second part of the 
Shakespearean historical tragedy of King Henry IV: 
Act IV, Scene IV: 

King Henry: — " Doth any name particular belong 
Unto the lodging where I first did swoon? 

Warwick: — 'Tis called Jerusalem, my noble Lord. 

King: — Laud be to God! — even there my life must 
end. 

It hath been prophesied to me many years, 
I should not die but in Jerusalem; 
Which vainly I supposed the Holy Land: — 
But bear me to that chamber; there I'll lie; 
In that Jerusalem shall Harry die. ' ' 

With the tuppenny tube (Yerkes two pence under- 



Land of the Rose 425 

ground railway) we reach perhaps the most histor- 
ically interesting spot in all England. To-day the 
entrance to London's ancient fortress and prison 
is free. Before we mount the Wakefield Tower to view 
the costly Regalia, enclosed in a large glass case and 
protected by strong iron bars, let us look at the big 
gaily garbed men whom we recognize as the surviving 
members of the old Yeomen of the Guard, the " Beef- 
eaters. " Yonder is the ancient White Tower. White 
in name only, for its memories are blackened with 
bloody crimes. A flight of narrow winding stairs leads 
us to the scene of Richard Ill's fearful murder of the 
innocent Princes, whose throne he had usurped. Our 
blood seems to curdle as we recall the soliloquy of 
Tyrrel : 

The tyrannous and bloody act is done, The most arch deed of piteous 
massacre that ever yet this land was guilty of. Dighton and Forrest, 
who I did suborn to do this piece of ruthless butchery, albeit they were 
liesh'd vilkins, bloody dogs, melting with tenderness and mild compas- 
sion, wept like two children, in their-death's sad story. O thus, quoth 
Dighton, lay the gentle babes, thus, thus, quoth Forrest, girdling ore 
another within their alabaster innocent arms. Their lips were four red 
roses on a stalk, and in their summer beauty kiss'd each other. A book 
of prayers on their pillow lay: which once, quoth Forrest, almost charged 
my mind: We smothered the most replenished sweet work of Nature, 
from the prime creation, e'er she framed. — Hence both are gone with con- 
science and remorse: — King Richard III: Act IV, Scene III. 

We will make our way to and across the busy 
London Bridge wmich, since we were all children, has 
been "falling down, falling down." We find the 
present structure so well supported by five granite 
arches, that we doubt if the old nursery prophecy will 
be realized by our great-grandchildren. It is inter- 
esting to learn that the lamp-posts on this bridge were 
cast from metal of French cannon captured in the 
Peninsular War. Not less than one hundred and ten 
thousand pedestrians cross Father Thames daily by 
this passageway Among the people we meet are two 



426 Glimpses Around the World 

boys perhaps twelve to thirteen years of age. They 
wear no hats, but long, dark blue coats belted at the 
waist, knickerbockers and bright yellow stockings. 
They are members of what is known as the "Blue Coat 
School," or Christ's Hospital. The institution was 
founded by Edward VI in the middle of the sixteenth 
century, and to this day its pupils are allowed special 
privileges. 

And now let us find ourselves at Piccadilly Circus. 
We shall walk through Regent Street, lined with 
attractive shop windows. Elaborately gowned Eng- 
lish women crowd the sidewalks. What extreme 
contrasts are these beplumed picture hats and sweep- 
ing skirts to the sailor hat, box coat English women 
we have encountered on the continent! As we shall 
return to London before sailing, let us postpone our 
shopping expedition. 

We have purchased tickets to see and hear Puccini's 
"La Boheme" which is to be presented at Covent 
Garden Theater this evening. On our way we pass 
the old Drury Lane 1 heater where Garrick, Kean, 
the Kembles and Mrs. Siddons used to act. 

Covent Garden Theater accommodates three thou- 
sand five hundred people, but for elegance the build- 
ing cannot be compared with the Grand Opera House 
in Paris. The full dress audience show their appre- 
ciation when Madame Melba, in her excellent charac- 
terization of the beautiful flower-girl, Mimi, first 
enters the bare attic studio of the artistic Rudolph to 
beg the loan of a candle from the poor poet. The 
following scenes in the "Quartier Latin" are so well 
produced by the great singer and the entire cast that 
we feel ourselves again in our Parisian home where 
we have often heard real Marcels and Rudolphs of 
to-day, serenade at night for a few centimes. 

Sunday is a queer day in London. During church 



Land of the Rose 



427 



services, transportation on trams, city trains, and 
.'buses ceases, and restaurants and cafes are closed. 
We almost wish we had joined "the trippers" to 
Margate or Ramsgate for a week's end holiday at a 
Kent seaside resort. 

Instead, equipped with plenty of hand luggage, we 
drive to the Paddington Styshun (station) and take 
the Great Western Railway to Stratford-on-Avon. 
Our train traverses lovely meadows and fields, whose 
verdure is sprinkled with the summer's dainty field 
flowers. We share our compartment with several 
agreeable fellow-passengers who are off for a holiday. 
One of John Bull's sons seems to recognize us as 
Yankees and generously offers the use of his train 
schedule. Few Englishmen would think it possible to 
travel without including a recent issue of Bradshaw's 
Railway Guide in their luggage. 

When we say we are en route to Stratford-on-Avon 
to pay honor to the memory of the greatest lyric and 
dramatic poet, one middle-aged woman answers, 
" Fancy, how singular you Americans journeying all 
this way to see Stratford. Why, I've lived in War- 
wickshire all my life, I often visit friends in Stratford 
but I'm sure I've never really taken time to visit the 
cottage nor the church to which so many of your 
country people choose to make a pilgrimage. Strat- 
ford and Shottery friends say, the souvenirs sold to 
the tourists supply the shillings for the winter expense 
and the American visitors especially are heralded as 
the children's harvest, for the selling of nosegays 
brings enough pennies to buy shoes and frocks. ' ' 

Here flows the Avon, there is the village with its 
church spire towering above the tree tops. Our train 
halts, we bid our traveling acquaintances good day 
and soon find ourselves riding through the village 
streets in a rattling little 'bus marked "Shakespeare's 



428 Glimpses Around the World 

Hotel. ' ' What a contrast are these quaint little cot- 
tages to the bustling smoky London! Is any one of 
these frolicking children destined to become another 
William Shakespeare? 

The rooms at the hotel, instead of being numbered, 
are named after the poet's dramas. Our chamber is 
" As you like it. " We trust the lady who will occupy 
the adjoining room marked "Macbeth," is not a 
somnambulist. 

Everything in the town serves as a reminder of the 
immortal Shakespeare; where he was born, bred and 
where he died; the country over which he wandered 
and played when a boy, whose beauties and whose 
lore as a man he put into his plays. 

Revolving years have flitted on, 
Corroding time has done its worst — 
Pilgrim and worshiper have gone 
From Avon's shrir e to shrine of dust, 
But Shakespeare lives unrivalled still 
And unapproached by mortal mind, 
The Giant of Parnassus Hill; 
The pride, the monarch of mankind. 

Let us turn the dial back three centuries and picture 
John and Mary Arden Shakespeare's abode when Wil- 
liam, one of eight children, was born April the twenty- 
third, 1564. Though the angel of death was busy in 
Stratford during the following summer, it spared the 
babe on whose life hung the fate of English literature. 
About half-way down the north side of Henley Street 
stands a three-gabled house; part was used as a 
dwelling and the remainder for the transaction of 
business of the wool stapler and glover, Mr. John 
Shakespeare. To-day we must ring a bell to gain 
entrance to this house, for the custodian lives at the 
east side of the garden. A sixpence fee admits us to 
the little low room which has been consecrated by 
tradition as the spot where the great dramatist first 



Land of the Rose 



429 



saw the light of day. The whitewashed walls are 
covered with the names of earlier visitors. On the 
window pane Walter Scott scratched his signature; 
here we read the names of Byron, Thackeray, Dickens 
and Tennyson. There is the large open grate and the 
little side niche which served as a cozy corner seat for 
the boy William. Another sixpence admits us to the 
larger rooms on the right, originally the business 
premises, but now converted into a library and museum 
for the preservation of relics belonging to the "honey- 
tongued poet in whom lived the sweet, witty soul of 
Ovid." In 1847, when this property was announced 
for sale, joint committees in London and Stratford 
were formed for raising funds to dedicate it to the 
public, and it was finally secured at public auction for 
three thousand pounds sterling. The adjoining cot- 
tages were pulled down so as to isolate the cherished 
building, and as far as possible protect it from the 
danger of fire. The yard has been transformed into a 
garden in which we find the trees and flowers men- 
tioned in the poet's works. "There's fennel for you, 
and columbines; — There's rue for you, and here's 
some for me : We may call it herb-grace O 'Sundays ;— 
oh, you must wear your rue with a difference. — There's 
a daisy: — I would give you some violets, but they 
withered all, when my father died. " 

We are told that in 1553, King Edward VI estab- 
lished the King's New School of Stratford-upon- 
Avon. Continuing our walk, we pass the old building 
"where Shakespeare acquired the small Latin and less 
Greek," which Ben Jonson accords to him. There is 
the Guild Hall where strolling players once congre- 
gated. Perhaps it was here that our Shakespeare con- 
ceived the lines of Hamlet 's instruction to the players ; 
thoughts which are and always will be the keynote to 
true dramatic art. 



43° Glimpses Around the World 

Rowe tells us, " William fell into the company of 
some wild fellows who were in the habit of stealing 
deer, and who drew him into robbing a park owned 
by Sir Thomas Lucy of Charlecote near Stratford. 
Being prosecuted for this he lampooned Sir Thomas 
in some bitter verses ; which made the knight so sharp 
after him that he had to steal himself off and take 
shelter in London. ' ' Though we have read many 
comments upon his life in the metropolis, we feel that 
the darling object of Shakespeare's residence in 
London was that he might return to his native town 
with a handsome competency and dwell in the bosom 
of his family. At "New Place" we walk on the site 
of the house where he resided upon his retirement to 
Stratford and where he died on the anniversary of his 
birth in 1616. 

And now we follow his body to its grave, on the 
bank of the Avon, in the church of the Holy Trinity. 
The structure is worthy of attention, but like Wash- 
ington Irving we feel, "the mind refuses to dwell on 
anything that is not directly connected with Shake- 
speare. ' ' On our way to the north side of the chancel 
we catch a glimpse of the stained glass windows which 
have been erected with the contributions of American 
visitors; one represents the "Seven Ages," on the 
other we recognize likenesses of Amerigo Vespucci, 
Columbus, William Penn and the Landing of the 
Pilgrims. 

And now below this worn slab lie the bones of him 
who was "not of an age, but for all time. " "Soul of the 
Age; The applause! delight! the wonder of our stage! 
My Shakespeare, rise! I will not lodge thee by Chaucer, 
or Spencer, or bid Beaumont lie a little further off to 
make thee room: Thou art a monument without a 
tomb, And art alive still, while thy book doth live And 
we have wits to read, and praise to give. ' ' 



Land of the Rose 431 

We read his familiar epitaph as it is inscribed upon 
the slab : — 

GOOD FREND, FOR JESVS SAKE FORBEARE, 
TO DIGG THE DUST ENCLOASED HEARE; 
BLEST BE YT MAN YT SPARE THES STONES, 
AND CVRST BE HE YT MOVES MY BONES. 

Just to the left repose the remains of his spouse 
Anne Hathaway Shakespeare who died in 1623, while 
the tombs of his daughters and their husbands have 
been placed nearby. There is the bust which is thought 
to have been made from the poet's death mask. As 
we look upon the likeness of the " sweet Swan of 
Avon" we think of Ben Jonson's lines: 

This figure that thou here seest put, 
It was for gentle Shakespeare cut, 
Wherein the graver had a strife 
With Nature, to outdo the life : 
Oh, could he but have drawn his wit 
As well in brass as he has hit 
His face, the print would then surpass 
All that was ever writ in brass ; 
But since he cannot, reader, look 
Not on his picture, but his book. 

Yet this authentic likeness shows us more truly 
than anything else what Shakespeare was like in the 
flesh. In those hazel eyes we read the wisdom, merri- 
ment, tenderness and love that were his. 

What needs my Shakespeare for his honored bones 

The labors of an age in piled stones ? 

Or that his hallowed reliques should be hid 

Under a star-y-pointing pyramid? 

Dear son of Memory, great heir of fame, 

What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name ? 

Thou in our wonder and astonishment 

Hath built thyself a livelong monument. 

Milton. 

The afterglow in the western horizon, the calm 
flowing river, the steepled church, the soothing sum- 
mer atmosphere with not enough breeze to stir the 



432 Glimpses Around the World 

elm tree foliage, is a never-to-be-forgotten scene of 
peacefulness. 

Returning to the hotel to prepare for to-morrow's 
excursion, we pass the Memorial Theater and Monu- 
ment presented by Lord Ronald Gower. In April of 
each year several of the best actors in London come 
here to present one or more of the Shakespearean 
dramas, as a memorial tribute to the beloved Bard. 

Daybreak finds us in readiness to follow again the 
footsteps of the poet. We remember Shakespeare 
thought fit to marry while he was very young. About 
a mile walk across the fields this glorious morning 
brings us to Shottery, where William at the age of 
eighteen years wooed and became "handfast to Anne 
the daughter of one Hathaway, a substantial yeo- 
man. " We find Anne Hathaway 's vine-entwined 
cottage still well preserved. It was purchased for the 
nation in 1892 at a cost of three thousand pounds 
sterling. Let us open the gate at the end of the hedge 
enclosure and walk along the garden path lined with 
old-fashioned flowers. Inside the quaint cottage lives 
Mrs. Baker, a descendant of the Hathaway family. 
She takes pains to show us her heirlooms. Here is a 
carved bedstead. We wonder if it is the one referred 
to in Shakespeare's will dated the twenty-fifth of 
March, 1616, in which is recorded: — "I give unto my 
wife the second best bed with the furniture." Some 
commentators suggest Shakespeare's marriage was 
"misgraffed in respect to years," but the sonnets and 
early works written to his wife do not substantiate 
this report, and we believe his wedded life was a 
happy one. 

"It was his nature, in whatever he undertook, to do 
his best. As an honest and true man, he would, if 
possible, make the temple of the drama a noble, a 
beautiful, and a glorious place ; and it was while work- 



Land of the Rose 433 

ing quietly and unobtrusively in furtherance of this 
end, — building better than he knew — that he approved 
himself the greatest, wisest, sweetest of men." 

Once more at the Stratford railway station, we take 
the train to Warwick. A half hour's trip lands us 
again on the banks of the Avon in the old capital of 
Warwickshire. 

Depositing our handbags with the station agent, 
let us dri^e to Warwick's glory, the famous old castle 
which has been truly pronounced "the most magnifi- 
cent of the ancient feudal rransions of the English 
nobility still used as a residence. ' ' Its position is at 
once commanding and picturesque, standing as it does 
on a rock overhanging the river, and enclosed by 
lovely trees and shrubs. Ihis ancient home cf the 
Earl of Warwick, the king maker, protafcly dates from 
Saxon times. See the toweling remnant cf the Nor- 
man Conquest, known as Cassar's Tower. In the con- 
servatory is the famous Warwick Vase found in 
Hadrian's Villa at Tivoli. The Beauchamp Chapel is 
the finest example of pure Gothic Architecture in the 
kingdom. In it are the tombs of the Earls of War- 
wick and of Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester. 

This is an ideal July day; let us hire this carriage 
for a five-mile drive north to Kenilworth. Ten shil- 
lings is the cost of the round trip. The pleasures we 
experience driving over this picturesque road made 
famous in history and literature are worthy of the 
trip. 

The twelfth century royal residence known as 
Kenilworth Castle is now a mass of vine-covered 
ruins. For a sixpence we are permitted to wander 
about Norman Keep, the spacious banqueting hall and 
Privy Chambers, while we sympathetically recall 
Scott's unhappy tale of the beautiful Amy Robsart 
whom the Earl of Leicester cruelly put to death in the 



434 Glimpses Around the World 

hope of becoming Queen Elizabeth's consort. Return- 
ing to Warwick we catch the afternoon train for 
Chester. The miles of wavy corn and grass fields and 
the long stretches of pasture-lands remind us with 
Emerson. "What a garden England is!" 

Chester is Great Britain's Nuremberg. The very 
name proves its Roman antiquity, for the early town 
was known as "the Camp." We find comfortable 
hotel accommodations, and with the returning day- 
light gain a glimpse of the most mediaeval-looking- 
town in England. Like Nuremberg, Chester is famous 
for ancient towers and something good to eat. Instead 
of cakes, we find this a choice cheese market. 

First, we will enjoy a walk around the top of the 
city walls, which were constructed of red sandstone 
in the fourteenth century. From here we view the 
ruined castles and towers surrounding the city, while 
the river Dee flows beyond. During our elevated 
ramble we see and hear a mountebank in the street 
below. He is busy extolling the virtues of a patent 
medicine, while a group of chattering children and a 
musicless grind-organ serve as his accompaniment. 

If we could look six miles to the northwest, we 
should see Hawarden Castle in Flintshire, North 
Wales, the home of Britain's late premier. 

The two main streets of the town are old Roman 
roads which, crossing each other at right angles, were 
cut out of the rocks by the Romans. The curious 
"Old Rows" or two-storied sidewalks are Chester's 
greatest curiosity. What could have been the early 
architect's object in building these strange timber 
houses with connecting sidewalks around the second 
story? A flight of steps leads to the balcony business 
houses, which seem to display a higher class of goods 
than the ground floor shops. We are told in 1863 the 
remains of a Roman bath were discovered on Bridge 



Land of the Rose 435 

Street. The three-gabled Stanley Palace, with its 
elaborately carved woodwork, has been converted 
into a tenement house. After a visit to Chester's 
cathedral we take the train on to Liverpool. 

The huge, black, noisy town of Liverpool, situated 
on the right bank of the estuary of the river Mersey, 
is the first foreign city many of our American tourists 
see. The name Liverpool was derived from a bird 
known as Liver, which once haunted the Mersey. A 
figure of this bird can be found on the town arms. 

Perhaps the most characteristic and interesting 
sight is the busy wharf of England's principal seaport. 
There are over fifty docks and basins, and we find the 
landing stage for steamers is a huge pontoon nearly 
two thousand five hundred feet long. While we stand 
watching one of the Cunard steamers striding out into 
the open sea, its guns firing a farewell salute, we 
notice two Irishmen at work repairing one of the docks. 
One says: — "What's that noise, Larry?" and Larry 
looking up with an air of superiority says: — "The 
goons, do you mane? Why, ov coorse it's an arrival 
goin' out. " 

We have engaged passage on to-night's steamer for 
Dublin, and, after a light evening lunch, get aboard 
the tossing vessel which plies across the Irish Sea. 
The night is stormy, and before we can make ourselves 
comfortable in our cabins, we realize the water has 
become Mersey-less, and that many fellow passengers 
are suffering from the inevitable malady. 



CHAPTER XVIII 

Where Shamrocks Grow 

AT daybreak we find oursteamer about to anchor 
off the coast of Erin's Isle. Did you notice the 
sign near the engine room "No smoking allowed' ' 
and yet a genial-faced Hibernian is enjoying his pipe 
while his eyes wander to his native shore ? Our observ- 
ing Captain stepping up points to the sign, saying, " Pat, 
don't you see that notice stuck up there?" "D'ye 
mane that bit o ' painted tin ? " "To be sure I do," 
answers the chief officer, "why don't you follow it?" 
"I haven't sayn' it move, it's nailed fast, I'm con- 
siderin. " "I mean have you read that notice?" " Divil 
a bit, sure I don't know how to rade. " "Well, it 
says, "no smoking allowed here." To which Pat 
promptly responds: "By the powers, it doesn't con- 
sarn me a mite thin, for I never smoked aloud in me 
loife." 

This bit of overheard witty dialogue serves as a 
tonic to our dejected spirit of nial de mer, and with 
renewed interest we descend the gang-plank and 
enter the city of Dublin. 

Oh, Bay of Dublin, my heart you're troublin', 
Your beauty haunts me like a fever dream ; 
Like frozen fountains that the sun sets bubblin', 
My heart's blood warms when I hear your name. 

Dublin, the key to Ireland, has for centuries been 
the metropolis of the island. The Danish settlers are 
said to be responsible for the appellation Dubh- 
linn, or black pool, a very appropriate name to-day 

(436) 



Where Shamrocks Grow 437 

for the dirty river Liffey which intersects the city. 
St. Patrick, "the king of the noble city of Dublin," 
was probably the first, by the introduction of Chris- 
tianity, to bring the importance of Ireland before the 
world. Indeed, history records that during the 
seventh, eighth and part of the ninth centuries Ireland 
was the center of western Christendom. Then we 
recall how the paganistic Danes invaded the land, 
and later how Pope Hadrian IV, an Englishman by 
birth, granted King Henry II of England the right to 
subjugate Ireland. We are told how Henry held his 
court in Dublin under a huge wicker canopy, how he 
divided the country into shires, and established trial 
by jury, as well as many laws utterly foreign to the 
Irish. Property was confiscated, and misery among 
the natives increased until the accession of James II, 
when matters took a new turn. The nineteenth cen- 
tury brought many improvements, and we find Dublin 
an enterprising city. We locate in a hotel on the 
broad and busy Sackville Street, where prices in 
shilling and pence are about equivalent to those 
charged at English hostelries. 

A lofty, fluted Doric column, known as Nelson's 
Pillar, graces the center of the city's activity, and 
from here the many electric tramways radiate. As 
cab hire is governed by a moderately fixed tariff, let 
us engage an Irish jaunting outside cart, with driver 
who acts as guide, in which to catch our glimpse of the 
capital city. 

As we jog smoothly and merrily along, let us first 
look upon the statue erected to the memory of Daniel 
O'Connel, the great Irish agitator and orator. Above 
the massive granite base rises a group of fifty bronze 
allegorical figures, among them the maid of Erin, who 
is handing the Act of Emancipation to the colossal 
figure of the beloved patriot. 



438 Glimpses Around the World 

Here is the Bank of Ireland, built in Ionic order, 
and considered to be the "architectural gem of Dub- 
lin. ' ' Our guide tells us that when the Lords wished 
for an enlargement of this building, and these splendid 
Corinthian columns were added to the east facade, an 
interested passer-by stopped to ask James Gandon, 
the architect, "What order it was?" to which Gandon 
replied, "A very substantial order, the order of the 
House of Lords. " 

On the east side of the square are the splendid build- 
ings of Trinity College, which was founded by Queen 
Elizabeth. Goldsmith, Burke, Emmet and Swift once 
answered class roll-call here. 

In number twelve, Arran Quay, the famous Edmund 
Burke was born, while in Angier Street, a house also 
numbered twelve, marks the birthplace of the poet 
Thomas Moore. A small bust of the songster adorns 
a niche above the entrance of the monger's shop once 
conducted by the elder Moore. We visit the splendid 
edifice of St. Patrick's Cathedral. Beneath the north 
transept, we are told, the little well, where the patron 
saint and his devout followers were baptized, still 
exists. During the past century, the church has been 
restored through the kindness of Sir Benjamin Lee 
Guiness, the brewer, whose name recalls the stout and 
ale so greatly favored by all British subjects. 

Several fruit shops display luscious-looking straw- 
berries, larger than those we usually find at home; 
we learn they are specimens from the strawberry beds 
which lie beyond the lovely Phoenix Park; Dublin's 
Bois de Bologne. 

To-morrow we shall travel south, and as it is always 
wise to be equipped with something eatable, we enter 
a shop marked "A. B. C. D. " which, we are interested 
to learn, means, Aerated Bread Company, Dublin. 
We wish to buy some crackers. The salesman disap- 



Where Shamrocks Grow 439 

pears behind the counter, and after several minutes' 
delay returns with a bundle of novelty paper favors 
such as our children snap at birthday parties. " Sure, 
and these are the only crackers we have," he says, 
and then we are reminded that "crackers" is 
an Americanism and we must ask for " soda bis- 
cuits. ' ' 

At the Kingbridge station, we board the Great 
Southern and Western Express train for Killarney, 
in Kerry County, the most westerly point of land on 
the European Continent, and that fascinating lake 
district which has been the subject of many an Irish 
folk-song. During the four hours' journey, our train 
passes the quaint old station of Kildare with its 
legendary Fire House of St. Bridget. As we traverse 
the county of Tipperary, a fellow-passenger calls our 
attention to the Devil's Bit Mountain, and we are told 
how Satan, while sojourning in Ireland, became so 
hungry he bit off the summit of the mountain, then 
finding it too hard and tough to eat, he dropped it in 
disgust. The Rock of Cashel with its picturesque 
ruins is supposed to be the indigestible mouthful 
Mephistopheles discharged. 

Shortly before reaching the station of Killarney, we 
are besieged by hotel runners who have come aboard 
the train to solicit our patronage. We have decided 
to stop at the Great Southern Railway Hotel, and 
when the train halts we merely walk through a covered 
passage, and in less than five minutes we are within 
the precincts of a comfortable hotel. 

The village of Killarney, which lies about a mile and 
a half from the famed beauty lakes of the same name, 
contains little of interest; its streets are dirty, and 
from the appearance of several of the mud-plastered 
cottages, we are reminded this must be where "they 
kept the pigs in the parlor. ' ' 



440 Glimpses Around the World 

We must not be forgetful that the Irishman 
says : 

The miles in this courtry much longer be, 
But that is a saving of time you see, 
For two of our miles are aiqual to three, 
Which shortens the road to a great degree. 

It is yet early afternoon. We will engage a guide 
recommended by the hotel management, and follow 
the road which leads to the lovely, ivy-clothed "Ross 
Castle" the old fortress of the O'Donoghues, which is 
situated on the largest of the thirty islands belonging 
to the Lower Lake, or Lough Leane, which means 
"Lake of Learning." The keep of the castle is well 
kept, and consists of a massive square tower with a 
spiral staircase. Yonder lies Innisfallen, the queen 
island of the lakes, of which we have learned through 
Thomas Moore's beautiful lines: 

Sweet Innisfallen, fare thee well, 
May calm and sunshine long be thine; 
How fair thou art, let others tell, 
While but to feel how fair, be mine. 

Sweet Innisfallen, long shall dwell 
In memory's dream that sunny smile, 
Which o : er thee on that evening fell 
When first I saw thy fairy isle. 

Remnant ruins of the monastery which was built by 
St. Finian, the leper, in 600 A.D. are still found on the 
island. 

The group of lofty mountains, the rippling water 
enclosed by the loveliest of foliage fascinate us and we 
delight in the anticipation of the morrow's excursion. 
Our guide tells us of a famous echo which may be 
heard near here, and leads the way around to the 
farther side of Ross Castle, where he sings out lustily, 
"How do ye do, Paddy Blake?" We listen, and 
promptly hear the response, "Very well, I thank 
ye. ' ' Of course our witty Irish attendant has had an 



Where Shamrocks Grow 441 

accomplice in this bit of amusement. As we return to 
the hotel, one of our party asks Tim (that is our 
guide's name), why he applies the feminine gender 
when telling about the echo; he scratches his puzzled 
head a moment, and then rejoins, " Feminine gander, 
your honor? Sure I never called the echo a gander, 
but bedad, she has some pluck in her anyhcw, for like 
St. Kevin's Goose, she flies three miles around the 
lake." The question," Why address the echo as a 
woman," is repeated, and our Killarneyian attendant 
says, "Oh, I beg your honor's pardon. I under- 
stand you now. Sure 'tis because she always has the 
last word. ' ' 

We will join Cook's tourist party on our all day's 
excursion around the three lakes, and thus dispense 
with the difficulty of bargaining for the various con- 
veyances. After an early breakfast we find a four- 
seated tally-ho, or char-a-bancs as it is called, drawn 
by six horses, with coachman and guide waiting at 
the hotel entrance. The seats are rapidly filled, mostly 
by our own fellow-countrymen. With the bugle 
sound we are off for the drive along the road which 
skirts the northern shore of Lough Leane. As we pass 
the ruined shrines of Aghadoe, now shrouded in ivy 
vines, wailing beggars crouch along the roadside, 
reminding us of Oriental miseries. 

Near the entrance to the Gap of Dunloe, we visit 
the little thatched hut said to be the home of Kate 
Kearney. 

Oh, did you ne'er hear of Kate Kearney? 

She lives on the banks of Killarney; 

From the glance of her eye shun danger and fly, 

For fatal's the glance of Kate Kearney. 

The present occupant of the humble abode, a 
hairless, toothless gal, says, "An' sure now, the 
famous old Kate, my great-grandmother has been 



442 Glimpses Around the World 

dead the last hundred years. Won't your honor have 
a drink of my fine Mountain Dew?" 

Here we mount the horses which have been made 
ready for us and leaving the char-a-bancs and its 
driver to return to the village, we enter between the 
perpendicular rocks which form a gateway to the 
strangely wild four-mile gorge known as the Gap of 
Dunloe. 

This pass separates the Tomies Mountain from the 
Macgilly Cuddy Reeks. The path is rugged and nar- 
row, but our animals seem to be sure-footed. Young 
Pat Murphy who walks at our side adds his words of 
comfort by telling us, "Don't be afraid, your honor, 
these bastes would rather doi than run away. ' ' 

The water of the small rushing stream that inter- 
sects the hills is inky black and very cold. While the 
other lakelets abound in fish, this spot has none, which 
our guide assures us is due to the fact that this is the 
identical spot where St. Patrick drowned the last 
serpent. As we continue along through the valley, the 
boulders become immense, many of them look as 
though they would topple over and crush down upon 
us at any moment. There is a tiny mountain stream 
which looks like a silvery thread; our guide calls it 
"the widow's tear;" we ask him why, and he answers, 
"Because it is easily dried." The sun does not seem 
to penetrate into this desolate spot, which is often 
called the "Valley of the Shadow of Death." In the 
midst of the solitude a small cannon is fired and the 
effect produced is wonderful. "A thousand repeti- 
tions of the sound spring out from the mountain, 
caverns, and hollows; a perfect torrent of thunder 
rushes from the peaks and ravines, and seems hurled 
back again in confusion by the precipices. ' ' At the 
end of the Gap of Dunloe we pass through what is 
known as Lord Brandon's Demesne, and reach a lovely 



Where Shamrocks Grow 443 

spot that overlooks towering mountain peaks, radiant 
foliage and tranquil water. Here our luncheon is 
spread. We decide it would have been an injury and 
sulkiness against Nature not to have come here to 
partake of her riches. How unlike is this picnic party 
to the noonday lunch at Sakkarah in the midst of the 
burning African sands. 

Boat and oarsmen are in waiting, and Ave soon find 
ourselves gliding .among the luxuriant isles of the 
Upper Lake. The farther we penetrate, the more 
beautiful becomes our surrounding, truly a sublimity 
of woods and mountains. The clouds passing over the 
summits cast long shadows on the water and seem to 
climb almost to the opposite hillsides. There is the 
evergreen covered mountain known as the Eagle's 
Nest, because many of the members of the Falcon 
family have built their homes in its crevices. Now 
our versatile guide plays several notes upon his cornet 
and instantly the mountains answer with a flood of 
rich harmony. There is a noise of rushing waters, as 
we pass through one of the two crumbling arches of 
the old Weir Bridge, and then "like an arrow from 
the bow ' ' we .shoot the rapids. Again we find ourselves 
in the tranquil "Meeting of the Waters." 

Yonder group of rocks which resemble book leaves, 
we are told, is the library from where all the lake tales 
come. O 'Sullivan's Punch Bowl is embowered in 
groves of arbutus, ash, holly, and hawthorn. In the 
Middle Lake we find the Colleen Bawn Caves which 
Gerald Griffin vividly describes in his story entitled 
"The Colleen Bawn. " In the Lower Lake we pass the 
Kenmare estate, and finally, in the late afternoon, we 
land at the quay near Ross Castle. Here the char-a- 
bancs meets us and we return to the hotel for a much- 
needed rest. 

In the morning, when the most recently arrived 



444 Glimpses Around the World 

tourists start on the delightful excursion which we 
experienced yesterday, we bid lovely Killarney fare- 
well, and take the train to Cork. En route let us 
alight at Blarney and visit the ivy mantled castle 
which was built in 1446 by Cormack MacCarthy. A 
sociably inclined fellow traveler tells us, " When Mac- 
Carthy resided at Blarney he became chieftain of his 
clan. He was repeatedly asked to take tenure of 
his lands direct from the Crown. Though he always 
promised with fair words and soft speech to do what 
was desired, he never could be got to come to the 
sticking point. One day, when one of his speeches 
was brought to Queen Elizabeth, she said, 'This is all 
Blarney; what he says he never means;' so from this 
time on, Blarney meant deluderin' talk. " Through the 
village we pass and make our way up the worn, stone 
steps to the well-preserved square keep which rises 
one hundred and twenty feet above the ground. 
Remembering the prophecy: 

There is a stone there, whoever kisses 

Oh! he never misses to grow eloquent, 
'Tis he may clamber to a lady's chamber 

Or become a member of Parliament. 

A clever spouter, he'll sure turn out, or 

An out-an-outer to be let alone ; 
Don't hope to hinder him, or to bewilder him 

Sure he's a pilgrim from the Blarney stone. 

Several athletic members of our party, upon reaching 
the top of the castle tower, attempt to imprint their 
lip salute upon the virtuous stone. Lying on their 
backs and dexterously balancing their bodies upon an 
iron bar while a friendly attendant holds their heels, 
they are able to reach the outer casement just below 
the parapet where the far-famed Blarney stone is 
lodged. 

The old city of Cork is the Venice of Ireland, being 



Where Shamrocks Grow 445 

built upon a cluster of islands which were originally 
separated by channels. This fact probably suggests 
the name Cork which is a corruption of Corcach, " a 
marsh. 

Leaving the railway station, we notice a nice look- 
ing conveyance attended by a driver who is shouting, 
" Free cab, right this way. " We acknowledge that no 
city during our entire tour has greeted us so cordially 
as to supply transportation gratis. Let us approach 
the lusty Hibernian coachman and direct our course of 
travel. Just as we are about to take our seats, Pat 
chucklingly whispers, " All you need to do is pay the 
driver. ' ' 

Cork is not well equipped foi tourists. St. Patrick's 
Street is the principal thoroughfare. We view the 
bronze statue of the great Irish Apostle of Temper- 
ance, Father Matthew, and then visit St. Ann's Shandon 
Church with its "two-colored pepper box steeple." 
The church bells, so well described in Francis Mahony 's 
poem, we remember learning in our school readers, 

Oh, thy bells of Shandon, 

That sound so grand on 

The pleasant waters of the river Lee. 

The body of Father Prout, as Mahony was better 
known, reposes within the church. 

Off St. Patrick's Street is Coal Quay. We do not 
find specimens of the black fuel, nor even peat here as 
might he inferred, though " Paddy from Cork with his 
coat buttoned behind" is much in evidence. We can 
recall no Oriental market we have visited which equals 
this incongruous array of merchandise, nor is attended 
by such dirty surging crowds of flattering venders. 
Here are urchins who must have served Murillo as 
models. A brief visit suffices. We think of the Irish 
editor who said in speaking of Ireland, " Her cup of 



446 Glimpses Around the World 

miseries has been for ages overflowing, and it's not yet 
full." 

Again we are strolling through crooked streets where 
many shops are devoted to the sale of the Irishman's 
bludgeon, the shillalah. Disreputable looking char- 
acters are stationed at street corners, and we are 
thankful when we realize we are aboard the train 
again, speeding northward to the capital city. 

St. Patrick's descendants remind us it is needless to 
describe the sights in Dublin' on this tour, so let us 
take the first train north to Ireland's chief commer- 
cial headquarters. 

Belfast is unlike other Irish cities we have visited. 
Its streets are broad, straight, and lined with modern, 
well-constructed buildings. Procrastination, depress- 
ing filth, and poverty are transformed into a spirit of 
enterprise, progression, and prosperity. Here Protest- 
ant worship is embraced by as many ecclesiastics as 
Catholicism. 

The extensive manufacture of linen has gained for 
Belfast the title of " Linenopolis. " Let us visit the 
imposing warehouse of Robinson and Cleaver, situated 
off Donegall Place. While viewing the rare specimens 
on exhibit and for sale, we recall the life of the unfor- 
tunate Earl of Stratford, who, during the reign of 
Charles I, exerted much energy in the promotion of 
the linen manufacture. It was he who first caused 
flaxseed to be brought from Holland, and then induced 
French and Flemish spinners to settle here by expend- 
ing thirty thousand pounds sterling of his private 
fortune in his undertaking. Later a body of refugees 
from France successfully introduced the manufacture 
of damask and cambric. To-day the annual value of 
the linen trade in the County of Ulster is estimated at 
more than twelve million pounds sterling. It is inter- 
esting to learn that the flax plant whose fibrous stem 



Where Shamrocks Grow 447 

affords the material from which the linen yarn is 
manufactured, grows to a height of three or four feet. 
The plant, which bears a pretty blue blossom, is 
pulled from the ground, steeped in water, and spread 
out for further preparation. When we think of the 
spinning, bleaching, belting, and calendering that 
must be done before we can purchase the linen, we are 
able to appreciate a table-cloth which one of the shop 
attendants takes pride in showing to us. It is a 
duplicate of the table spread designed for Queen 
Victoria in honor of Her Majesty's Jubilee. The 
design, known as the "Woven Mystery," represents 
forty-four different species of ferns. There are also 
splendid displays of crochet lace made by the hands 
of Ireland's fair daughters. We have indeed not been 
oblivious of the bewitching, blue-eyed, rosy-cheeked, 
raven-haired maidens, but as we glance at the Albert 
Memorial Clock Tower we are reminded it is time to 
make our way to the busy wharf, and board the 
steamer bound for Scotland. 

Time prevents us from making the excursion to the 
Giant's Causeway, one of the most singular natural 
productions in the world. 

An eight hours' ride over a calm sea lands us, at 
daybreak, amid the deafening din of Glasgow's iron 
and steel ship-building yards. We are told that more 
than two-thirds of all British steamers are built on the 
Clyde, or at least provided with engines made here. 



CHAPTER XIX 

Highland of the Celts 

O Caledonia ! stern and wild, 

Meet nurse for a poetic child, 

Land of brown heath and shagged wood. 

Scott. 

WE are in Scotland, the home of Scott and Burns, 
Mary Stuart and Macbeth, of Loch Lomond 
and the Trossachs, of thistles, heath, and 
heather. Glasgow, like Belfast, is a commercial me- 
tropolis. The sires of this city of the west have estab- 
lished municipal ownership. Not only does the city 
govern and own the excellent water system, gas plant, 
and tramways, but we find social problems greatly 
improved through the erection of several model 
tenement houses where, for a small rental fee, the 
Caledonians whose worldly goods are meager may in- 
habit suitable homes. There is a desirable lodging 
house for unmarried Scots, where the many roomers 
have the use of a commodious kitchen, dining, and 
reading room. There is also a home devoted to the 
comforts of widowers with children. During the day, 
while the father labors to earn the livelihood, he need 
have no fear for his motherless babes, as capable 
matrons are in charge to care for the wants of the 
little ones. These commendable attributes have made 
Glasgow one of the best governed cities in Great Britain, 
if not within the world. 

The chief memory connecting " the Wizard of the 
North" with Glasgow, besides his statue in George 

(448) 



Highland of the Celts 449 

Square, is the twelfth-century cathedral off High 
Street, which has been immortalized in Rob Roy. 

To reach Burns' country we must take the train at 
St. Enoch's station for Ayr, which lies some forty 
miles away on the Firth of Clyde. The birthplace of 
the " Ploughman Poet" still stands some two miles to 
the south of the ancient seaport town. We remember 
from Burns' own song, " Rantin' rovin' Robin," how 
father Burns rode like Tarn o' Shanter through the 
storm to Ayr for a nurse. After the stork's arrival on 
the twenty-fifth of January, 1759, in the midst of the 
still raging storm, a bit of the clay-built gable fell 
through the opening, and "a blast o' Janwar win' 
blew hansel in on Robin. ' ' The whole countryside is 
filled with the associations of his Scottish songs. 
"Burns' mind was like the sea, stirred by every wind 
that chanced to blow. He would have a dozen moods 
a day, and his muse expressed herself with correspond- 
ing variation." There is the " Auld Brig" and "Ye 
banks and braes o' bonnie D0011 — How can ye bloom 
sae fresh and fair? How can ye chant ye little birds, 
And I sae weary fu ! o' care?" 

Once more in Glasgow, let us travel to Edinburgh 
via the loveliest of Scottish scenery. The text of Rob 
Roy is our guide, for " Our route lay through a dreary 
yet romantic country. The lofty peak of Ben Lomond, 
here the predominant monarch of the mountains, lay 
on our right and served as a striking landmark. We 
emerged through a pass in the hills, and Loch Lomond 
opened before us. This noble lake, boasting innum- 
erable beautiful islands of every varying form and 
outline which fancy can frame, its northern extremity 
narrowing until it is lost among dusky and retreating 
mountains, while gradually widening as it extends to 
the southward, it spreads its base around the inden- 
tures and promontories of a fair and fertile land and 



45° Glimpses Around the World 

affords one of the most surprising, beautiful, and 
sublime spectacles in Nature. ' ' The steamboat jour- 
ney to Inversnaid and the enchanting Loch Katrine 
with its little Ellen's Isle, so well known to all lovers 
of " The Lady of the Lake, " the coaching tour through 
the romantic richly wooded Trossachs, and the dis- 
tant view of the venerable Stirling Castle where Mary 
was crowned Queen of the Scots, are memorable 
glimpses, and it is late when we arrive in Edwin's 
Burgh. 

This is the early part of August, and, though our 
watches tell us it is past ten o'clock, the shades of 
night have not yet fallen. We realize that this 
unusual light is occasioned b}^ our approach to the 
Arctic regions of the midnight sunshine. 

The early history of the Scotch capital is that of 
the castle-rock fortress, which came into the possession 
of the Celts during the tenth century. We recall Eng- 
land's invasion some six hundred years later, and the 
unhappy life of the beautiful and accomplished Mary 
who claimed the thrones of France, Scotland, and 
England as her legacy. 

Edinburgh is truly "the Queen City of the North" 
and we know of no lovelier thoroughfare than Princes' 
Street, lined with its well-kept public gardens. Near 
Waverly Station rises the magnificent statue of Sir 
Walter Scott. It is a pleasure to note the High- 
landers' appreciation and love of their " Magician of 
the North. ' ' The morning sun casts its rays upon the 
castle rock and leads us to the spot where kings and 
princes have feasted their eyes on the wondrous land- 
scape spread around. Several members of a clan of 
Highlanders, in tartan kilts, are drilling in the field 
and we can hear the musical tones of the bagpiper's , 
favorite Pibroch. 

As we enter the castle gateway an official attendant 



Highland of the Celts 



451 



serves us as guide. We pass through the Crown Room 
which contains the splendid Scottish insignia, and 
enter the small, irregular chamber in which Queen 
Mary gave birth to James VI of Scotland and I of 
England. We notice a stone tablet over the arch of the 
old doorway, with the initials H. and M. (Henry and 
Mary) and the date 1566. Few changes have taken 
place, and to-day we find the old oaken chair which 
stood here when James was born, as well as a block of 
the thorn tree which Mary planted at Loch Leven. 
We look out through the quaint little window whence 
we are told the princely babe, when but a few days 
old, was secretly let down in a basket and carried to 
Stirling Castle for baptism. From this same window 
the sorrowful Mary looked out across the " Kirk-o- 
field" to where the bodies of her murdered spouse 
Darnley and his page were found stark and grim on 
that fatal February morning. The adjoining Great 
Hall of the palace once served as the Kingdom's 
Parliament House. 

On the highest esplanade, three hundred and eighty 
feet above the level of the sea, stands the celebrated 
fifteenth-century cannon, Mons Meg. Our guide tells 
us, "the great iron murderer, Muckle Meg, was pre- 
sented to James II when he arrived to besiege the 
Castle of Thrieve. The king granted to Brawny Kim, 
the smith who made the cannon, and to his wife Meg, 
the lands of Mollance. A corruption of this term is 
perhaps the origin of "Mons Meg." 

And now let us peep into the oldest and smallest 
chapel in Scotland. It was built by the pious Margaret, 
Queen of Malcolm III. Though centuries have passed 
since the last of the crowned Stuarts slept in this old 
castle built on the edge of the steep cliff, still from 
many distant shores prince and peer have come, as we 
to-day, to pay willing homage to the grand historic 



45 2 



Glimpses Around the World 



" steep and ironbelted rock, where trusted He the 
monarchy's last gems. " 

This afternoon let us pass Edinburgh's imposing 
modern buildings and walk to the bridges. Here we 
find the old two-storied, brown, wooden, red-roofed 
projecting house in which the celebrated reformer- 




Queen Mary's Bedroom, Holyrood Palace. 

statesman John Knox lived. The inscription around 
the house, which now serves as a tobacco shop reads : 

"LVFE • GOD • ABVFE • AL ■ AND ■ YI ■ 
NYCHBOVR • AS ■ YI ■ SELF. " 

At the end of Cannongate rises the seventeenth- 
century imperial residence known as "Holyrood." 
This palace occupies the site of an abbey which was 



Highland of the Celts 453 

founded by David I in gratitude to his miraculous 
escape from an infuriate stag. The usual fee of six- 
pence admits us to the interior, whose royal furnish- 
ings are crumbling to dust, the once gaudy gold orna- 
mentation is now a grimy black, and the rich silk and 
velvet draperies are dusty and threadbare. 

In Queen Mary's chamber, we are shown the first 
open fireplace built in Scotland. On a small table at 
one side lies the unfortunate queen's workbox. A 
bloody stain on the floor in the vestibule of the audi- 
ence chamber is still pointed out as the exact spot 
where the favored court attendant Rizzio was mur- 
dered by the jealous Darnley. We pass Darnley's 
tomb in the Royal Chapel. Historical memories 
linked with scenes and characters of Scott's creations 
seem to haunt every crevice in the old town. 

In Parliament Square we notice a stone inscribed 
"I K 1572." This open space was once a churchyard 
and many claim this spot as the grave of the illus- 
trious John Knox. Advocates, in powdered wigs and 
flowing gowns, conferring with their clients, fill the 
great Hall of the Parliament House. As we pass, we 
seem to feel the presence of poor Peter Peebles and 
his interminable lawsuit. 

There is yet time to take an electric tram to New- 
haven, a quaint fishing village on the bank of the 
Firth of Forth. Newhaven, like Marken Island, is 
inhabited by folk of Scandinavian origin who have 
not forsaken their picturesque dress and unique 
customs. Returning through Leith we see the harbor 
dotted with steamers ready to set sail for Arctic 
shores. 

The musical selections during Sunday morning ser- 
vice in St. Giles Cathedral are performed by bag- 
pipers who, like several of the worshipers, are attired 
in Highlander's costume according to their various 



454 Glimpses Around the World 

clans. Edinburgh remains the shrine of Scott, " a 
modern Athens" of which we regretfully take our 
leave. 

Melrose lies an hour and a half's ride to the south, 
through fields of blooming heather. Upon our arrival 
we find near the station a clean little inn where we 
shall spend the night. 

This glorious morning we decide to walk two miles 
along the bank of the River Tweed to Abbotsford. It 
is noon before we reach Sir Walter's estate, and seeing 
a bonny "lassie wi' lint white locks" playing at the 
side of a rambling cottage, we determine that this is 
an advantageous lunching station. In our most affable 
manner we make our way to the cottage entrance, and 
are there greeted by a "gudewife" who graciously 
serves us with oat cakes and milk. While we enjoy 
our lunch she entertains us with tales of her kin that 
dwell in America. When we return we must be sure 
to tell them how "we ken the auld lassie who lives 
nigh to Selkirk. ' ' 

A short walk now leads us to Waverleyshire. Every 
tree of the woodland that now encloses Abbotsford was 
planted by Sir Walter. Following a long walk screened 
by high shrubbery we reach the side doorway. A 
custodian appears from a basement room, and leads 
us up to the great novelist's study. We find a large 
room in which is an open grate, nearby stands the 
author's desk and the green leather-upholstered chair 
in which he sat when he wrote. Adjoining is the bed 
chamber in which the last works of the Scottish 
author were penned, while at the side is a small salon 
where Scott often met his friends ; he called this room 
his " chat-a-bit. " 

The library is lined with his favorite books, includ- 
ing many volumes of reference. The shelves of an 
upper gallery are lined with the world's best literature. 



Highland of the Celts 455 

We have read of Sir Walter's hobby, collecting relics. 
Here in a glass cabinet we find the mother-of-pearl 
crucifix which Mary Queen of Scots held in her hand 
at the time of her execution. Here is the green velvet 
and gold embroidered blotting book which Napoleon 
used. There is a lock of Wellington's gray hair. See 
the glass used by Bob Burns on which the Ayrshire 
bard idly scratched a poem with a pin. Rob Roy's 
chatelaine is on exhibition, as well as several childhood 
mementos belonging to the Scott family. In the 
entrance hall as we gaze upon the portrait of the 
poet's father, our guide tells us how the senior Walter, 
when a young man, was caught for stealing. He was 
brought before the magistrate and found guilty. 
Dame Rutherford, whose spouse was the victim of the 
theft, admired the young man, and after pleading for 
his pardon offered her daughter's hand to him in 
marriage. Scott is said to have promptly responded 
"drive on to the scaffold." While he was in prison 
Anne, the young lady in question, through her kind 
deeds won Scott's admiration and love. This same 
woman was the mother of Scotland's greatest son of 
literature. With Tennyson we say, great and 
gallant Scott! True gentleman, heart, blood, and bone, 
I would it had been my lot to have seen thee, and 
heard thee and known. We are told this irregu- 
larly built mansion is now owned by Sir Walter's 
great-granddaughter, Mrs. Maxwell Scott. 

Returning to Melrose we visit the Abbey whose 
remains are indisputably the finest in Albania. Like 
Holyrood Abbey in Edinburgh, this cloister was 
founded by David I, though history tells us it was 
almost wholly destroyed during the reign of Edward 
II. The present beautiful Gothic structure, whose 
ruins we view, was erected by Robert Bruce. His 
heart, always loyal to his country, was buried at the 



456 Glimpses Around the World 

high altar of the Abbey. The choir which is built in 
the form of a half Greek cross has suffered the least 
destruction. 

As we ramble through the adjoining churchyard, 
filled with its quaint old tombs, we pause before one 
and read this epitaph : 

Why all this toil for triumphs of an hour. 
What tho ' we wade in wealth or foam in fame, 
Earth's highest station ends in "Here he lies." 
And dust to dust concludes her noblest song. 
This truth how certain — when this life is o'er, 
Man dies to live, and lives to die no more. 

We seek our Melrose hospice for evening refresh- 
ments, but at dusk return to glance again at the 
picturesque ruins, remembering Scott's lines in the 
Lay of the Last Minstrel : 

If thou would'st view fair Melrose aright, 

Go visit it by the pale moonlight ; 

For the gay beams of lightsome day 

Gild, but to flout, the ruins gray. 

When the broken arches are black in night, 

And each shafted oriel glimmers white; 

When the cold light's uncertain shower 

Steams on the ruin'd central tower; 

When buttress and buttress, alternately, 

Seem framed of ebon and ivory ; 

When silver edges the imagery 

And the scrolls that teach thee to live and die; 

When distant Tweed is heard to rave, 

And the owlet to hoot o'er the dead man's grave, 

Then go — but go alone the while — 

Then view St. David's ruin'd pile; 

And, home returning, soothly swear, 

Was never scene so sad and fair. 

The morning train carries us south through Gretna 
Green, where many a nuptial knot has been hurriedly 
tied by the village blacksmith. Again we find our- 
selves in Merry England. Upon our arrival in London 
we receive notice from the North German Lloyd Com- 
pany's office that the steamship Kaiser Wilhelm II, on 
which we have engaged passage will meet the South- 



Highland of the Celts 457 

ampton tender to-morrow. Promising ourselves the 
pleasure of more glimpses on another tour, we arrange 
our baggage and board the special morning train for 
one of England's gateways. Our purchased steamship 
tickets include this first-class rail trip. We notice the 
seats in the coaches are numbered, and a correspond- 
ing numeral on our transportation certificate entitles 
each of us to a reserved seat. 

On schedule time our train arrives close to South- 
ampton's wharf. All baggage has been adorned with 
alphabetical labels according to our surnames and that 
which we do not wish in our cabins is marked " Hold. " 
We board the tender and steer out into the English 
Channel to meet the huge four smoke-stacked North 
German Lloyd Liner. 

We have caught our last glimpse of European land. 
Now while the navy-blue-uniformed musicians on 
deck play "God save the King," we mount the 
steamer's gang-plank and with the assistance of the 
German stewards locate in our luxuriously equipped 
state-rooms. During the afternoon anchor is lowered 
close to the shore of France to take aboard Cherbourg 
passengers who, like ourselves, are en route to the 
Western Continent. Halts at Bremen, Southampton, 
and Cherbourg have been made, and now our steamer's 
bow is turned due west. 

The ocean breezes are chilling but we order the deck 
steward to place our steamer chairs on the sunny side 
of the highest promenade deck. We reserve table 
seats near the center of the spacious dining salon, for 
it is there we know the least vibration is felt. The 
steward and stewardess arrange a convenient hour 
for sea baths, and as we roam through the palatially 
furnished salons, we marvel at the comforts of twen- 
tieth-century Atlantic transportation. There are 
booths where souvenirs, confectionery, flowers, and 



45 8 Glimpses Around the World 

books can be purchased. We spend much time cozily 
wrapped in our rugs while we recline in steamer chairs, 
but when the gale is too severe to enjoy the heaving 
blue horizon, we find entertainment in the conversa- 
tion, coffee, music, and writing salons. A forenoon 
concert on deck, and music during the evening dinner, 
are furnished by some dozen members of the orchestra. 
The musical tones of a cornet replace the Japanese 
gong as the signal for feasting. Three elaborate menus 
and lunches sandwiched between, are duly appreciated 
after our varied and ofttimes unpalatable diets. 
Though there are many seemingly pleasant passengers 
aboard, there is not the congeniality we experienced 
on the Oriental liners. 

The fifth and last dinner aboard, known as the 
" Captain's Feast, " is a gala occasion. We read " Illu- 
minated Ice-cream" near the bottom of the menu 
cards, and now all of the electric illumination in the 
salon is suddenly extinguished, and in excited antici- 
pation we watch the many waiters march around the 
tables carrying huge platters on which are hollow ice 
molds with vari-colored lighted tapers burning within. 
The ice-cream encircles the frigid mount. To our sense 
of sight the effect suggests fairy land, but the delicious 
refreshment to our sense of taste is the joy of reality. 



CHAPTER XX 

The Land of the Free and the Home of the 

Brave 

Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise, 
The queen of the world and the child of the skies! 
Thy genius commands thee; with rapture behold, 
While ages on ages thy splendors unfold. 

WE have been presented with custom declaration 
blanks; being United States residents, we 
must record the number of pieces of baggage 
in our possession as well as an itemized cost of all 
purchases made abroad. If their value does not ex- 
ceed one hundred dollars and the same are not for 
sale, we are exempt from duty. 

Instead of snow-crowned Fujiyama which greeted 
us a year ago, here in the loveliest harbor of the world 
rises the majestic statue of the Goddess of Liberty. 
In her uplifted hand she holds the torch of blessed 
light, a beacon of welcome to all who. cast their eyes 
upon this Guardian Angel of the sweet land of liberty. 
This largest modern statue which De Lesseps named 
"the eighth wonder of the world" was modeled by 
Auguste Bartholdi and presented to the United States 
by the French Republic. Bedloe's Island was well 
chosen as its site. Now New York's sky scrapers are 
conspicuous against the horizon. Here floats the star 
spangled banner, "long may she wave." There is 
the gilded dome of the Globe Building and the over- 
towering Park Row Building. In our enthusiasm we 

(459) 



460 



Glimpses Around the World 



chance to overhear a recent son of das Vaterland 
exclaim, " Ach mein Gott wunderbar diese Himmel- 
Kratzer. ' ' 

Crowds of expectant friends are awaiting our arrival 
at the pier. As we descend the gang-plank and enter 




The Guardian Angel of the Sweet Land of Liberty. 

the custom-house we offer a silent prayer of thanks 
for our safe return. 

Breathes their a man with soul so dead 
Who never to himself hath said 
This is my own, my native land. 



The Land of the Free 461 

We order our baggage carried to the alphabetical 
section agreeing with our names and after a careful 
examination by the customs official we are per- 
mitted to take the ferry across to the largest city on 
the Western Continent. 

We are in New York and everything about the hus- 
tling metropolis spells " prosperity. " Cab hire is more 
expensive than we found it in Europe, but there are 
automobiles stationed on the Fifth Avenue side of the 
towering Flat Iron Building, and we decide to catch 
our glimpse of the great city from one of the motor 
cars. The fare for each tour is one dollar. Let us first 
make the up-town trip. Washington Square, once 
the mournful site of the old Potter 's Field, is now 
adorned by the splendid marble Memorial Arch. This 
is the beginning of Fifth Avenue, the Belgravia of 
America, the center of fashion and splendor. The 
shrubbery surrounding the Episcopal Church of the 
Transfiguration, more affectionately known as "the 
little church around the corner, ' ' is conspicuous at 
Twenty-ninth Street. Brown stone palaces, whose 
door-plates reveal names suggesting the dollar sign, 
line the spacious avenue. At the corner of Fiftieth 
Street rises St. Patrick's Cathedral, the most mag- 
nificent religious edifice in the United States. 

The wise fathers of Gotham deserve much credit for 
having reserved so many breathing spots even in the 
most congested quarters. Three hundred years ago 
Central Park was merely a dreary swampy thicket, 
to-day we find it a sylvan paradise. Benches line the 
Mall, the favorite promenade, but here, unlike the 
Bois de Bologne, Hyde Park, or the Pincio, the seats 
are free. 

Before the Metropolitan Art Museum towers Cleo- 
patra's Needle, which, like its Parisian-bred sister, 
once graced the Valley of the Nile. Unlike the Euro- 



462 Glimpses Around the World 

pean treasure houses, the Metropolitan Art Museum is 
not a national institution, but wealthy individuals 
have made this, while yet a child in years, the lead- 
ing American Fine Arts exhibit, and second only to 
London's British Museum in its things Babylonian. 
On the second floor we view the celebrated " Horse 
Fair, ' ' which was painted by Rosa Bonheur when she 
was thirty years of age. This original canvas, which 
established the artist's reputation, was purchased by 
Mr. Cornelius Vanderbilt for fifty-three thousand five 
hundred dollars and presented to the Museum. As our 
eyes rest upon the colossal picture entitled "Chris- 
topher Columbus at the Court of Ferdinand the Catho- 
lic and Isabella of Castile, ' ' which was executed by a 
Bohemian artist of reputable renown, we recall the 
historical moment when the good Queen of Spain 
offered her jewels as security for the money needed 
to equip Columbus on his western Trans-Atlantic 
voyage. 

Our tour through Riverside Park, which occupies 
the high bank of the Hudson, rivals any drive we have 
enjoyed during our tour. On its northern height rises 
the white marble mausoleum, built in the Grecian- 
Doric style, which was erected as the tomb of General 
Grant. Entering, we read above the doorway the great 
patriot's famous request which to-day is vibrating 
across the greatest seas, — "Let Us Have Peace/' 

On Morningside Heights are the buildings of the 
Columbia University. The stately gray-domed 
Memorial Library lends dignity to the campus. Our 
glimpse of this esthetic fashionable New York does 
not suffice; we must traverse Broadway, past the 
mercantile emporiums, past the Gothic Grace Church 
with its twin organs which by means of electrical con- 
nection are manipulated from one keyboard, past 
Bowling Green ■which in the Colonial days served as 



The Land of the Free 463 

the market place of the old Dutch Settlement that 
clustered about the rude fort known as New Amster- 
dam. We are reminded it was here that our spirited 
ancestors pulled down the leaden statue of King 
George III, and from the melted monarch molded 
some forty thousand bullets which they fired at the 
Red-Coats. 

We traverse Wall Street, the great nerve center of 
finance, and at the Stock Exchange mingle with the 
frenzied mass who eagerly seek the fluctuating mone- 
tary barometer. 

It is already dark, let us dispense with the luxuries 
of a Fifth Avenue table-d'hote dinner, and spend the 
evening in the Bowery, the cosmopolitan hive of lower 
New York. The name " Bowery " is a corruption of the 
Dutch Bauerie, or farm house, the site of the resi- 
dence of Peter Stuyvesant, the last Dutch governor 
of New Amsterdam. Dickens and Thackeray found 
interesting material among the haunts of the swagger- 
ing Bowery boys, but to-day Americans have almost 
entirely disappeared, and the antithesis of Broadway 
and its byways, are peopled by representatives of 
many nations. Here we find a summary of our globe 
tour — Celestials surrounded by their Joss house, 
restaurants, and theaters adorned with vertical signs 
as in Canton — Little Italy with its squalid tenements 
teeming with rough- voiced, piercing-eyed Neapoli- 
tans — cunning Turks, and Egyptians, amid their dingy 
warehouses. Here also live the zealous, frugal, Ger- 
manized Jews and Bohemians as well as the Russian 
political refugees. This, too, is New York. 

After a daylight glance at Brooklyn Bridge, one of 
the nation's glories, whose four cables resting on two 
towers span the East River, we make our way to the 
Jersey City Station and catch the ' ' Pennsylvania 
Limited" for Washington. A four-hours' ride to the 



464 Glimpses Around the World 

south, carries us to the National Capitol. The District 
of Columbia is the heart of the United States, for 
from this center of efficient action, life surges through 
the entire organism. 

We enter the American exhibition ground through 
the Union Station, whose white granite waiting-room 
is the largest in the world. Do you recognize the 
architectural motive of this structure which was 
derived from the triumphal arches at Rome? We are 
told that "at no time since the National Capitol was 
established on the banks of the Potomac, have such 
extensive building operations been carried on by or 
for the government as within this twentieth century. ' ' 

Let us engage a conveyance and driving down the 
stately Pennsylvania Avenue, catch a glimpse of the 
intellectual and social center, which more than a cen- 
tury ago Major L 'Enfant laid out on paper, and the 
Father of our Country and his helping contemporaries 
saw in their dreams. 

A colossal dome, crowned by a huge bronze statue of 
Freedom, towers over Capitol Hill and leads us to 
Uncle Sam's headquarters. What Oriental or Occi- 
dental palace have we visited, whose approach pre- 
sents as grand and dominant a character as this? At 
the main entrance is a colossal allegorical group repre- 
senting the Genius of America, and above the great 
bronze doors, which are adorned with splendid histori- 
cal reliefs, we find the laurel-crowned bust of Wash- 
ington whose character and counsels, says Edward 
Everett, "will guide us through the doubts and 
difficulties that beset us; and will lead our children's 
children in the paths of prosperity and peace, while 
America shall hold her place in the family of Nations. ' ' 
Within "the citadel of Yankee democracy" is the 
mammoth rotunda which leads to the National Statu- 
ary Hall, the Hall of Representatives, and the elegant 



The Land of the Free 



46: 



State Reception rooms of the President and the Vice- 
President. 

Adjoining the Great Capitol is the Congressional 
Library, the third largest in the world, which is built 
according to the Italian Renaissance. " In the dignity 
of its proportion and design, in richness and harmony 
of adornment, in the perfect adaptation to the purpose 




Uncle Sam's Headquarters 



for which it is intended, the Library of Congress stands 
to-day as America's highest architectural achieve- 
ment." The central stair hall is truly "a vision in 
polished stone." As the name implies, the members 
of Congress, the President, and the Supreme Court 
officials are the only personages privileged to draw 



466 Glimpses Around the World 

books, yet all may enjoy with patriotic pride this 
characteristic stamp of our Nation's prosperity, wealth, 
and artistic advancement. 

Just vis-a-vis from the Capitol stands the Executive 
Mansion, a two-storied stone building, which, being 
painted white, is now universally known as the White 
House. This Ionic-columned, semi-circular, colonnaded 
residence has served each President during the past 
century. We are permitted to view its sumptuously 
equipped reception rooms which are now thought to be 
inadequate for the abode of the nation's first citizen. 

Passing the new House of Representatives and 
Senate Buildings, whose style of architecture suggests 
the Garde Meuble on the Parisian Place de la Concorde, 
we make our way to the highest monument in the 
world. The marble shaft rising five hundred and 
fifty-five feet, and known as Washington Monument, 
was erected as a memorial to him who was "first in 
war,[first in peace, and first in the hearts of his country- 
men. " We decide that the world's greatest cenotaph 
in its power of simplicity suggests the character of our 
greatest hero. A splendid bird's-eye view of the 
entire city may be obtained by taking the elevator to 
its summit. 

Let us board an electric car and ride to the Arling- 
ton National Cemetery whose inscribed monuments 
recall the bloody pages of our country's history. 
Here, unlike the Cawnpore Memorial, we read : 

Beneath this stone Repose the bones of 2 1 1 1 unknown soldiers 
gathered after the War from the fields of Bull Run and the route to the 
Rappahannock. Their remains could not be identified, but their names 
and deaths are recorded in the archives of their country, and its grateful 
citizens honor them as their noble army of martyrs. May they rest in 
peace. September, A. D. 1886. 

Like all loyal Americans we feel that we must pay 
our tribute of respect to the home and final sleeping 



The Land of the Free 467 

place of Washington. Mount Vernon lies about fifteen 
miles below the city. We remember how the wooden 
mansion and its six acres of land on the Virginia bank 
of the Potomac came into the possession of George at 
the time of his brother Lawrence's death, and how the 
dames known as "Mount Vernon's Association," with 
the assistance of Edward Everett, supplied the sum of 
two hundred thousand dollars which was required for 
establishing this as a national historical shrine. 

Among the Knickerbockers and the Washingtonians 
we would choose to make an extended visit, but our 
sleeping-car compartments are reserved, and upon our 
return to the metropolis we board the New York Cen- 
tral evening train for the west. 

Our railway tickets admit of a day's stop-over, so 
let us enjoy an early breakfast in Niagara, the souvenir- 
shop-lined town built at the side of the mighty Falls. 

Niagara, wonder of this western world 
And half the world beside. 

The mouthful name, Niagara, meaning "thunder of 
waters," was so christened by the Neuter tribe of 
Indians who once dwelt here. From the lore of these 
red men we learn how they worshiped the Great 
Spirit of the Falls, and once each year sent the fairest 
squaw of the tribe to the Happy Hunting Grounds as a 
sacrifice to the Great Spirit. A tradition-loving artist 
has given us this conception of the lovely Indian 
maiden as she is sent over the raging Falls in her 
white birch-bark canoe, laden with the choicest fruit 
and flowers. 

Father Hennepin has furnished us with the earliest 
description of this stupendous waterfall between 
Lake Erie and Lake Ontario. On Prospect Point in 
the midst of verdant loveliness, we gaze at the foam- 
ing water which ceaselessly dashes over the mighty 



468 



Glimpses Around the World 



embankment at the rate of eighteen million cubic 
feet per minute, and then falls into the chasm it has 
gnawed for itself in the bed of the Niagara River. We 
do not feel overpowered as at the Grand Canon in 




The Indians' Interpretation of Niagara Falls. 

Arizona, but we say with Charles Kingsley that we 
"long to simply look on in silence, whole days at the 
exquisite beauty of form and color. ' ' 



The Land of the Free 469 

Let us cross the stone bridge that leads to Goat 
Island which was once the burying ground of great 
Indian chiefs and warriors. The venturesome mem- 
bers of our party don waterproof robes and visit the 
watery chaos of the Caves of the Wind. The rapids 
are perhaps the most striking feature of the phenom- 
enon. 

Flow on forever in thy glorious robe 
Of terror and of beauty. Yea, flow on 
Unfathomed and resistless. God hath set 
His rainbow on thy forehead: and the cloud 
Mantled around thy feet. And He doth give 
Thy voice of thunder power to speak to Him 
Eternally-bidding the lip of man 
Keep silence — and upon thine altar pour 
Incense of awe struck praise. 

Another night of Pullman -car travel completes our 
circular tour. Again the towering structures of the 
hustling, bustling, middle western metropolis are in 
sight. We are among the "suckers" in the "Garden 
City." A walk along State Street convinces us that 
Chicago's Department Stores cannot be equaled any- 
where in the world. 

Mid pleasure and palaces though we may roam, 

Be it ever so humble there's no place like home. 

A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there 

Which sought through the world is ne'er met with elsewhere. 

J. Howard Payne. 



EPILOGUE 

Tell me, gentle traveler, who hast wandered 
through the world and seen the sweetest roses 
blow and the brightest rivers glide — of all thine 
eyes have seen which is the fairest land ? Shall 
I tell thee where Nature is most blest and fair? 
It is where those whom we love abide. 

The Persian. 



Creation's heir, the world, the world is mine. 

Goldsmith. 



(47i) 



GLOSSARY 



Acropolis — Greek, the commanding site of a city. 

Adobe — Mexican-Spanish, sun-dried brick. 

Amida — Sanscrit, deity of boundless light. 

Amir, Ameer — Arabic, " commander, " a title of princes 

and nobles. 
Anna — Hindustani, an Indian coin, the sixteenth part 

of a rupee. 
Annai-sha — Japanese, a guide. 
Apis — Egyptian sacred bull. 

Arabiyeh — Egyptian conveyance, similar to a victoria. 
Asteria — A variety of sapphire, which when cut round 

shows a star. 
Backshish — A gratuity in the Orient. 
Bahnhof — German, railway station. 
Bambino — Italian, child, specifically a figure of the 

Christ Jesus. 
Bibliothek — German, a library. 
Boey — Japanese, domestic male servant. 
Bowery — Dutch — corruption of "bauerie, " a farm 

house. 
Brahma — Hindustani, the impersonal and absolute 

divinity. 
Brahman — Hindustani, a member of the sacred caste. 
Brahmanee — Hindustani, a woman of the Brahman 

caste. 
Buono gente — Italian, good people. 
Burg — An ancient circular 1 tuilding, or round tower. 
Camera — Italian, a chamber. 

(473) 



474 Glimpses Around the World 

Camisa — Spanish, a shirt, tunic, chemise. 

Campagna — French, field. 

Campanile — Italian, a bell tower. 

Campo Santo — Italian, cemetery. 

Carabao — Spanish, Philippine beast of burden. 

Carromato — Spanish, a vehicle. 

Carrozella — Italian, a one-horse conveyance. 

Caste — Class sect, corruption of the Portuguese "casta, " 

or race. 
Centesimo— Italian, copper coin. 
Centime — French, copper coin. 

Chddar — Hindustani, sheet worn by men and women. 
Cka o cha — Japanese, tea. 
Char-a-bancs — A long light vehicle open at the sides 

with transverse seats. 
Chatty, plural Chatties — Hindustani, a spherical-shaped 

earthen pot used to carry liquid. 
Chianti — Italian, red wine. 
Clan — Gaelic, an association of persons under a 

chieftain. 
Cohen — Hebrew, priest. 

Coir — The prepared fiber of the husk of the cocoanut. 
Confiseur — French, confectioner. 
Coup d'oeil — French, rapid glance of the eye. 
Dahabeah — Arabic, a kind of boat used on the Nile. 
Daibutsu — Japanese, a deity, literally "Great Buddha. " 
Daimio — Japanese, feudal noble. 
Delta — Greek, triangular island between the diverging 

branches of a great river. 
Deodar — Hindustani, sacred tree. 
Dhobies — Hindustani, washerman. 
Divan — Arabic, a kind of sofa. 
Diwan-i-am — Persian, hall of public audience. 
Diwan-i-khas — Persian, hall of private audience. 
Dori — Japanese, street. 
Dragoman — Arabic, a guide. 



Glossary 



475 



Droschke — German, a carriage. 

Duomo — Italian, cathedral. 

Durbar — Persian, a royal court. 

Durga — Hindustani, a divinity, consort of Siva. 

Eventail — French, a fan. 

Facchini — Italian, porter. 

Facteur — French, porter. 

Fakir — Persian, a religious Mohammedan who has 

taken a vow of poverty. 
Fellah, plural Fellahin — Arabic, peasant. 
Femme de chambre — French, chamber-maid. 
Feuer — German, fire. 

Florin — Silver coin in circulation in the Netherlands. 
Franc — Silver coin in circulation in France. 
Frei — German, free. 
Futons — Japanese, floor quilts. 
Gar con, French, boy. 
Galabiya — Arabic, long blue cotton robe worn by poor 

Egyptians. 
Gare — French, railway platform. 
Geisha — Japanese, a dancing girl. 
Gendarmeria — Italian, policemen. 
Gepdck — German, baggage. 
Geta — Japanese, wooden shoe. 
Gharry — Hindustani, a carriage. 

Ghat — Sanscrit, a landing place, steps on a river side. 
Gibbeh — Arabic, coat worn by Egyptians. 
Glyptothek — German, gallery of sculpture. 
Gohei — Japanese, receptacle for strips of gold which 

the Emperor presents to the temple. 
Gosho — Japanese, palace. 
Gozen — Japanese, early breakfast. 
Gratuite — French, free gift. 

Habara — Arabic, cloak worn by Egyptian women. 
Hernial, Hammdl — Arabic, a porter, in Bombay an 

orderly, or house-bearer. 



476 Glimpses Around the World 

Hara-Kiri — Japanese, to commit suicide. 

Hatoba — Japanese, landing-place. 

Harem — Persian, ladies' apartment, a sanctuary. 

Hibachi — Japanese, hot charcoal receptacle. 

Holoku — Hawaiian, a gown worn by women. 

Hopis — A tribe of American Indians. 

Hotel de ville — French, town hall. 

Icho — Japanese, a kind of tree, whose leaves turn 

golden in Autumn. 
Inari — Japanese, the god of rice, who employs the fox 

as his servant. 
Jain — Hindustani, a member of a non-Brahminical 

sect in India. 
Jats — A mysterious race, perhaps Hinduized Scythians, 

first mentioned in the beginning of the nth 

century. 
Jhatkas — East Indian pony carts. 
Jinrikisha — Japanese, two-wheeled vehicle. 
Joss — Pidgin English, a Chinese god or idol. 
Junks — A large sea-going sailing-vessel used in the 

Chinese Seas. 
Just — Spanish, a delicate vegetable fiber of the Philip- 
pine Islands used for dresses. 
Kaaba — Arabic, the most sacred Mohammedan shrine. 
Kaftan — Arabic, vest worn by Egyptians. 
Kaiser — German, emperor. 
Kakemono — Japanese, a hanging scroll — generally 

painted. 
Kalamdan — Persian, a writing case. 
Kali — Hindustani, goddess of wrath. 
Kandeel — Dutch, wine. 
Kaneel-Koekjes — Dutch, cinnamon cakes. 
Kapelle — German, chapel. 
Kaquara — Japanese, priestess' dance. 
Kashi — Hindustani, "splendid," used when referring 

to Benares. 



Glossary 477 

Kasuteira — Japanese, sponge cake. 

Kellner — German, waiter. 

Kerk — Dutch, church. 

Khan — An unfurnished inn, in Oriental lands, gener- 
ally belonging to the government. 

Khedive — Persian, title of viceroy of Egypt. 

Kimono— Japanese, flowing robe. 

Kinder — German, children. 

Kir cite — German, church. 

Klaft — Egyptian head-dress. 

Koran — The religious and moral code of the Moham- 
medans, the foundation of Islam. 

Koshin — Japanese, Day of the Monkey. 

Kumshaw, Cumshaw — Chinese Pidgin English, said to 
be a corruption of "commission," a present of 
any kind. 

Kilche — German, kitchen. 

Kwankoba — Japanese, bazaar. 

Kwannon — Japanese, goddess of mercy. 

Leis — Hawaiian, garlands, floral wreaths. 

Lira — Italian, silver coin. 

Lota — Hindustani, brass water vessel. 

Magasin — French, store, shop. 

Mahal — Hindustani, house, palace, mansion. 

Mai de mer — French, sea-sickness. 

Mameluke — Arabic, a male servant belonging to the 
retinue of a bey. 

Mandarin — Chinese, civil or military official who 
wears a button. 

Mark — German, silver coin. 

Masid — Arabic, mosque. 

Metalic — Turkish, copper coin. 

Misericordia — Italian, brothers of charity. 

Moguls — The conquerors of Hindustan in the 16th 
century. 

Moujiks — Russian, peasant. 



478 Glimpses Around the World 

Mussulman — A follower of Mohammed, a Moslem. 
Narghileh — An Eastern tobacco-pipe in which the 

smoke passes through water before reaching 

the lips. 
Necropolis — Greek, cemetery. 
Nilometer — A pillar on the bank of the Nile River, 

which is marked with the Arabic fluvial scale. 
Nipa, — A kind of palm with which the Filipino covers 

his house. 
Nirvana — Sanscrit, the condition of a Buddha, the 

state to which the Buddhist saint is to aspire 

as the highest aim and highest good. 
Nordeki — Japanese, transfer. 
Nullah — A water-course commonly used for the dry 

bed of a stream. 
Obi — Japanese, sash. 
Octroi — French, grant, town-due. 
Palanquin — A covered conveyance generally for one 

person, used in India, and elsewhere in the 

East ; borne by means of poles on the shoulders 

of four or six men. 
Palazzo — Italian, palace. 
Pan — Hindustani, a betel-leaf in which an areca-nut is 

wrapped to form a masticatory. 
Papaya — A tree bearing a yellowish fruit similar to 

a melon. 
Papyrus — A kind of rush, formerly growing largely in 

Egypt. 
Pariah — Hindustani, no-caste man. 
Parsees, Parsis — A people who formerly inhabited 

Persia, but now form the influential population 

of Bombay. 
Peso — Spanish, silver coin. 
Pfennig — German, copper coin. 
Piaster — Turkish, silver coin. 
Piazzale — Italian, place. 



Glossary 479 

Pice — Copper coin of India. 

Pietra dura — Ornamental work in inlay of hard stones. 

Pina — A cloth of pineapple fiber. 

Pinakothek — German, gallery of pictures. 

Pinjrapoles — Hindustani, rooms of refuge for animals. 

Ponte — Italian, bridge. 

Poppe — Italian, gondolier. 

Portier — French, door-keeper. 

Punkas — Hindustani, a fan. 

Rajah — In India, a prince of Hindu race ruling a 
territory. 

Rathhaus — German, court-house. 

Ronin — Japanese, literally, a "wave-man," a wanderer. 

Rupee. — The standard unit of value in India, a silver 
coin. 

Salaam. — A ceremonious salutation of the Orientals. 

Salve — Italian, welcome. 

Sa premi — Italian, to the left. 

Sampan — An Oriental skiff. 

Saki — Japanese, fermented rice-juice. 

Sati, Suttee — Hindustani, a faithful wife who burns her- 
self on the funeral pyre of her husband. 

Samisen — Japanese, musical instrument. 

Sayonara — Japanese, good-by. 

Sarhi — Hindustani, drapery worn by women. 

Scarab — A beetle, 

Scaldino — Italian, a receptacle for burning charcoal. 

Schloss — German, castle. 

Schwartzbrod — German, rye bread. 

Sen — Japanese, copper coin. 

Senor — Spanish, Mister. 

Senora — Spanish, Mrs. 

Shillalah — An oak or blackthorn sapling used in Ire- 
land as a cudgel. 

Shiva — Hindustani, a deity, "the destroyer." 

Shogun — Japanese, military commander. 



480 Glimpses Around the World 

Si — Italian, yes. 

Siesta — A midday nap in the tropics. 

Sikh — Hindustani, a member of a politico-religious 

community of India, literally, "a disciple." 
Soldi — Italian, copper coin equal to five centisimi. 
Sorti — Italian, exit. 

Sou — French, copper coin equal to five centimes. 
S peise-zimmer — German, dining room. 
Stadt — German, city. 
Stat — Italian, to the right. 
Stazione — Italian, station. 
Straat — Dutch, street. 
Stuiver — Dutch, a coin. 
Sudra — Hindustani, a laborer. 
Suk — Market in Jerusalem. 
Surya — Hindustani, the sun. 
Tabi — Japanese, sock. 

Tamil — A people inhabiting southern India. 
Thiergarten — German, Zoological Garden. 
Tiffin — Luncheon, word of hybrid origin. 
Toddy — Sweetish drink extracted from cocoanut- 

palm-tree. 
Torii — Japanese, gateway to Shinto temple. 
Tourelles — French, turret. 
Traeger — German, porter. 
Tridineum — Among the Romans, the dining room, 

furnished with three couches where guests were 

received. 
Trickier — German, funnel. 
T rink gelt — German, gratuity. 
Uraens — Ancient Egyptian emblem of royalty. 
Via — Italian, street. 
Viceroy — The governor of a kingdom who rules in the 

name of the king. 
Vino — Italian, wine. 
Vishnu — Hindustani, a deity, " the preserver. ' ' 



Glossary 481 

Voiture — French, carriage. 

Wald — German, woods. 

I Veinstube — German, wine-room. 

Wurst — German, Bologna sausage. 

Yashmak — Arabic, the veil worn by Moslem women in 
public. 

Yen — Japanese, silver coin. 

Yog — A practiced principal in Jainism 

Zikr — A pious devotion to Allah performed by Moham- 
medan mystics. 




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